From the Ashes
by Mr Toes
Summary: Shortly after the Blip, a family from Missouri struggles to find a new balance amongst the chaos. While confronting their own demons, the Bartons are forced to face off against a curious individual with a strange agenda; one which may have implications for everyone on Earth.
1. Chapter 1: On the Blink

**From the Ashes**

**Introduction**

This story starts, as so many do, with a happy, heartwarming moment.

My husband and I met and married many years ago, and then moved to a beautiful farmstead in Missouri. It was located far from town, in an idyllic plot of land bordered on three sides by a large oak forest. Nearby, there was a large, shallow stream ideal for floating toy boats and, during the summer months, the wheat fields grew thick and tall, creating shimmering fields of gold that rippled in the wind and positively glowed at sunset. It was a world removed from the world, safe from harm and free from complications, and I _loved_ it.

Although Clint was coming and going on various jobs, I was never short of things to do; the farmhouse needed my constant attention and endless tinkering, and then of course, there was our family. Cooper came first, followed shortly by Lila and then finally little Nat. When they were old enough, I found a place for them in a nearby school, but during the holidays and the evenings I used to sit on the porch and watch them play tag in the field, or hunt monsters in the forest. Sometimes, we all used to go and float little paper ships in the stream that had shown so much promise, and then we would roast marshmallows over a firepit in the yard.

We were not completely isolated from the world. We heard all about the invasion of New York, the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D., and the loss of Novi Grad - first from the news, and then later from Clint, upon his return. However, these things were always far away, and I never thought that they would intrude on my precious little world, with its precious little treasures.

In hindsight, that may have been a bit of a mistake.

**Chapter One: On the blink**

The day that the world changed forever was one of those perfect spring days; warm, but without the oppressiveness of the summer sun. The air was fresh, with a slight breeze from the northwest, and the sounds of birdsong filled the air as returning bluebirds and wrens began to take up residence for the summer ahead. It was the kind of day that demanded outdoor family activities, and so (after separating Cooper from his phone) we dutifully trooped outside and had some good ol fashioned quality time on the back lawn.

Eventually, though, even Clint and Cooper got tired of playing touch football, and my stomach reminded me that it was probably time for lunch. The instant I suggested that the children might want to pitch in, however, Lila suddenly decided that she would much rather spend some one-on-one time with her father, and Nate was suddenly off towards the forests, looking for bugs, beetles, and butterflies in the still-growing cornfields. Cooper set off after him, giving me a glance that was only slightly apologetic as they waded into the tall grass.

"Fine," I said, and sighed. It wasn't like I needed an army to make hotdogs, anyway.

"Want some help?" Clint offered. With a laugh, I kissed him and then shooed him off.

"Go - go and spend some time with Lila," I said, and then added, "You can make it up to me tonight."

"I'm sure I can find a way," he said, with a roguish smirk, and then he was gone. Shaking my head, I went inside to see what I could rustle up.

A short while later, I brought the hotdogs out and laid them on the chequered tablecloth, alongside everything else one needed for a slap up family lunch. Finally satisfied, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Life was good. It might not have been for everyone, but it was for us.

With a big smile, I said, "Hey guys! Enough practice, soup's on!" and turned to grab a hotdog before the oncoming hordes reached the table-

_Snap_

-and missed. The hotdogs were suddenly gone. Not just gone, but _gone_, along with everything else on the table. The plates, cutlery, condiments and tablecloth had vanished, as if they'd never been there. The table itself had changed, too; the new coat of varnish that I'd applied only last week was now cracked and broken, and as I staggered and caught myself on the table it cracked audibly and released a puff of dust.

"What the-" I gasped, and stepped back in surprise. Even the light had changed; the clear blue sky was now filled with clouds that scudded across the sun, casting a dreary pallor over the previously pristine day, "What's going on?"

"Mom? Mom!" I heard Cooper's voice ring out across the yard, and turned to see him burst out across the overgrown, tangled mess that was previously a cornfield, dragging Nathaniel behind him, "What's-"

"I don't know," I said, fighting to keep my voice level.

"_You've got to stay calm, Laura," _my mind cut in instantly,_ "You've got to stay calm for the kids."_

"Where's Lila? And your father?"

"She was over by the garage," said Cooper, breathlessly, "with dad-"

There was a blood-curdling scream from around the side of the house.

"Lila!" I screamed and, throwing caution to the winds, sprinted around the side of the house to find her crumpled on the floor next to a discarded bow, screaming something indistinguishable over and over again as she scrabbled at the dirt.

"What's wrong?" I said urgently, and knelt down beside her, "What's wrong, honey? What's-"

My daughter looked up at me, her face streaked with tears and horror etched across her face, "It's...its dad. He vanished, mom! One moment he was here and then-"

_Vanished_. I could already feel the vomit rising in my throat, but with a superhuman effort forced it back down and drew Lila into a close hug.

"It's okay, honey. We're going to sort all this out. You'll see...it's all going to be fine."

There was a crunch of gravel from behind me as Cooper and Nathan arrived.

"Is she okay, mom?" he said anxiously, "Where's dad?"

"He's gone, Coop!" Lila cried out, "Gone!"

"Gone where?"

"He just...disappeared!"

"Maybe you should try phoning him, mom," my son suggested, "He could have just gone round the side-"

"No! He's _gone!_ I saw him vanish!"

"You don't know what you saw!" Cooper shouted, causing Nathaniel to burst into tears.

"Lila! Coop! Be quiet!" I snapped, my control slipping for just a moment, "Okay. I'll call Dad. You both just wait here for a moment, and _keep an eye on Nate!_"

By now, my heart was hammering in my chest and I could already feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes. Quickly, I scrambled to my feet and headed into the garage, trying to ignore the piles of dust and smell of decay as I pushed open the door. Feeling around in the dark, I reached for the lightswitch but was not entirely surprised when nothing happened. Right now, it didn't matter. I just needed to call Clint. Call Clint, find out where he was, find out what was going on. Just...one step at a time, right? He was probably fine and had just gone off to investigate. Lila had to have been mistaken; people don't just vanish into thin air.

"_Yeah, but hotdogs don't either,"_ my brain said treacherously, _"And what was _in_ that fertiliser you put on the lawn? Super soldier serum?"_

"Be quiet," I muttered to myself, and took my phone out of my pocket. My hand was shaking so much it took me several attempts to unlock it, but eventually I managed to swipe over to Clint's face and hit the call button.

"Please pick up, babe," I begged, "Please…"

The phone rang again, and again, and my heart began to sink. Then there was a click.

"Clint?" I said breathlessly, "_Clint_?"

There was a pause, and I almost fancied that I could hear someone choking on the other side of the phone.

"Honey?" his voice, when it came, was so thick it was difficult to understand, "Honey!"

"Clint!" I said, and felt relief flood through me, "Where are you, Clint? I-"

The line erupted into a sudden roar, loud enough for me to jerk the phone reflexively away from my ear. A moment later, I heard another pair of violent detonations followed by the shriek of twisting metal and collapsing masonry. There was a very final-sounding crunch, and the line went dead.

For a long, horrible moment I stared blankly at the phone, then my legs buckled in shock and I fell to my knees.

"_Oh, no."_

* * *

I'm not entirely sure how long I sat there, but a commotion outside stirred me back to wakefulness. Slowly (and with some assistance from the wall) I clambered to my feet and staggered outside to find my children gathered around a yellowed envelope.

"Cooper? Lila? What have you got there?" I said, still desperately fighting to keep my voice level.

"Mom, I think we know what's happened!" Cooper said, "Look. Look at this letter!"

The letter was waved in front of my face, and I had just enough time to make out the logo of our local water company.

"What? What is i- Coop, stop fluttering that around my face!" I snapped, and roughly snatched it out of his grasp.

Cooper looked momentarily abashed, but then said "Look at the date, mom. It's-"

"February 1st, 2023," I breathed, "2023...that can't be right. That's...five years. We've travelled five years into the future."

"_That does make sense,"_ my traitorous brain remarked, clinically, _"It would explain everything, except why Clint exploded just after you rang him._"

"Somebody had to print this letter, Mom," my son added, "It looks like its been out in the weather for a bit, too."

"Did you talk to dad, mom?" Lila said suddenly, cutting into my reverie.

"What? Oh, yes, for just a moment," I said, distantly, "He was...okay."

"_Liar."_

"When is he coming home?" she said, "When? When?"

"I don't know," I said, softly.

"When?"

"I don't know!"

"_When?_"

"I don't know, Lila!" I shouted, my resolve finally cracking entirely, "I don't know anything! I don't know what's going on or why this letter exists or where your dad is!"

I sat down heavily, and tears streamed down my cheeks as I whispered, "I don't know…"

"What if…" Cooper said slowly, as if he was considering something horrible, "What if _we_ travelled forwards in time, but dad...didn't?"

"_Bingo. Give that kid a prize!"_ there was a sound of mental applause, _ "You know, sometimes it's hard to believe that he's really our son."_

"That wouldn't happen!" Lila wailed suddenly, "Dad wouldn't abandon us! He _wouldn't!_"

"Listen, children," with an effort I composed myself, "I don't know what is going on. What I _do _know is that we are all here together, and we are going to_ stay like that_. We are a family; and this family sticks together no matter _what_. Now, until we find out exactly what is going on we are going to make sure that this house is cleaned up and ready for when your dad gets home, or so help me all three of you will be grounded for a _month_! Do you understand?"

"Aww, but-" Cooper began.

"No buts, Coop," I said sharply, "You can start by making sure we have enough firewood. Lila, check the larder to see if we have any food or fresh water. We may need to dip into Clint's emergency supplies."

"And Nate?" Lila said sullenly.

"Nate can sweep the garage," I said, and clapped my hands, "Alright, team, let's move!"

It was a dirty trick, but it was one that I knew would work. I had to keep them calm, and to keep them calm I had to keep them busy while I tried to get my head on straight. Was this really _2023?_ How did we get here? Why wasn't Clint here? What the _hell was going on?_

My phone buzzed in my pocket, catching me off guard. My heart leapt into my throat as I took it out, half expecting, half dreading news from Clint. Instead, the phone's newsfeed was displayed prominently on the lock screen, with the headline:

'_BREAKING: 3.5 billion reappear spontaneously following five year absence'_

My breath caught in my throat as I quickly unlocked the phone and pulled up further headlines:

'_Confusion, joy, chaos as billions thought gone forever reappear five years later'_

'_They're back! Half of humanity reappears in a flash!'_

'_Avengers Compound in ruins following airstrike by alien dreadnought'_

'_Fierce battle rages between alien invaders and Avengers, reinforced by wizards, monks, robots, heavily armed animals, and at least one creature described as an 'Ent'.' _

"Oh my god," I whispered, "We really did travel five years into the future."

"_Sure looks like it. Along with half of the planet, too."_

"And everyone left...thought we died?"

"_Wouldn't you? Five years is a long time to be missing."_

"But Clint didn't come with us, which means…" suddenly, the yawning feeling in the pit of my stomach opened wider, until it felt like it could swallow me whole, "Oh no. No!"

"_Yup."_

"That's just _too_ cruel!"

"_Maybe it wasn't so bad for him. Five years without you and the kids? Never ending bachelor party!"_

"I-"

"_Maybe he grieved, moved on, and met someone new. Maybe he got together with Natasha? I mean, she's a bit deadpan and she's _definitely _obsessed with ledgers, but she can also choke a man to death with her thighs. That _has_ to be worth something in the bedroom."_

"Just be quiet," I growled, "I need to think about what I'm going to tell the kids."

* * *

For want of anything better to do, I went to check on the children. Nate was, of course, making a total hash of sweeping the garage, but as long as he was entertained and wasn't eating bugs then that was fine by me. Instead, I followed the sounds of chopping wood round to the back of the house, where I found Cooper hefting short, mildewy logs onto a stump before bisecting brutally them with our axe. From his expression, it was pretty clear that he was both desperate for news and dreading whatever it might mean.

"Hey, kiddo," I said gently, as he set the axe down to retrieve another log, "How are you doing?"

"Dunno, mom," he said, with his trademark brutal honesty, "Any news from dad?"

"Nothing yet," I shook my head, and felt the anxiety spike deep inside me, "I'm sure he'll call when he can."

"Any idea what's going on?" he pressed, "Have we really gone to the future?"

"I'm...not sure yet," I lied, "I'm going to see if I can get the power on. If the television still works, maybe we can get the news."

"How about your phone? I think mine's upstairs, and if it's anything like this axe…" he held up the rusty, dull axe for emphasis, "Dad made me sharpen this just yesterday, too."

"No data," I lied again. The last thing him and Lila needed to hear about right now were pitched alien battles and the mass reappearance of half the human race. I needed time to process that myself, before I could sit them down and take them through it. Goodness, how was I going to tell Nate? "Look, I'm going to go inside and see how Lila's doing. You going to be okay out here?"

"Sure, mom. I'll be fine."

As it turned out my timing was excellent, as my phone buzzed noisily the very instant I was out of earshot. Once again, the dread pooled in my stomach as I pulled out my phone to see:

'_VICTORY FOR AVENGERS as alien forces, warship dissolve in scenes reminiscent of five years ago'._

It was a relief, but not a huge one. There was a video link available, but I didn't dare watch it - partly for fear of alerting my children, but mostly because I _definitely_ wasn't ready to find out what 'five years ago' had looked like. Instead, I put my phone away and went inside.

Lila wasn't in the kitchen, but it was easy enough to follow the trail of footprints upstairs to her room where I found her sitting on her bed, clutching at an old, mouldy teddy bear as she stared vacantly into space.

"Lila?" my tone was gentle but firm, as I sat down on the bed beside her, "Lila honey, I thought I asked you to check on the food and water."

"The food's bad and the water's bad, mom," she said, tonelessly, "I...found a couple days of rations and maybe four litres of water in Dad's bugout bag. There's some of those tablets, too - you know, the ones I tipped in the bath and he yelled at me?"

"I know," I said, and put my arm around her shoulders. It wasn't much, and Clint's emergency rations flawlessly combined the taste of wet dog with the rich, chewy texture of a winter tyre...but it would have to do.

"Is he gone, mom?"

"No, hon, no," I said, "I just talked to him, remember? He's real busy right now, but he'll call as soon as he can."

"What's more important than us, mom?"

"_An all out alien invasion? Ents roaming the countryside of upstate New York?__"_

"Well, you know how sometimes he has to go away and he can't really talk to us?" I said gently, "It's like that."

"But he'll be back, right?" Lila looked up at me, suddenly very small, "He always comes back."

"And he always will," I said, reassuringly, "I guess if you've checked the rations, you can get to work on sorting out this pigsty. It was a mess before, and it's even more of a mess now."

"I can't find Mr. Scratchy, either," my daughter sighed, "I'm sure I left him on the bed. I'm sure of it."

"Maybe you'll find him if you tidy up a bit, then," I replied, "I can barely see the floor.

"I...think I heard a rat under the bed. If I catch it, can I keep it as a pet?"

"No!" I said, and ruffled her head, "Just chase it out of the house if you find it."

"_Maybe we should keep it as a source of food,"_ said my inner voice, _"Those rations aren't great, and they aren't going to last forever."_

"What're you going to do, mom?"

"I told Cooper that I was going to try and get the power on, but I think I'm firstly going to go through my room. Make sure everything's still there, okay?"

"_It's been five years. Surprised looters haven't been here already."_

* * *

I didn't really know what to expect when I entered the master bedroom, but it was pretty clear that I'd accidentally left the window open before I came down this morning. The room wasn't that dusty, but every surface was either covered in leaves, droppings, or a combination of the two. The bed was a mess, and although I couldn't see the en suite from the door, there was a pungent aroma hanging in the room that made me quite glad of that fact.

"_This morning? Be honest with yourself, Laura. We weren't around this morning, or yesterday morning, or any of the two-thousand odd mornings before that. We were a non-entity. A nothing. Absent without leav-"_

"You know what I mean," I said, stopping to pick up a tube of lipstick. The contents of my vanity were strewn all across the floor, and the mirror itself had been shattered by what looked to be a single, strong blow to the direct centre of the glass.

"_No animal did that. There aren't any rocks or large branches in here, either."_

"But if someone vandalised it, why didn't they take anything?" I flicked open my jewelry box, and the room was filled with the light of a dozen gems winking back at me, "See? They're all there."

"_You're not being honest with yourself again, Laura."_

"...I know," I said, and sat down heavily on my vanity stool, which responded by collapsing. Biting back a curse, I slowly clambered to my feet and put my hands on the vanity, staring at myself in the shattered glass.

"What am I going to do?" I said, and exhaled.

"_Well, you could answer your phone."_

Rather belatedly, I realised that the buzzing in the air wasn't some angry insect caught in a web, but the insistent vibrations of an incoming call. With my heart thudding in my chest, I pulled out the phone and saw 'Unknown number' plastered across the top. Dreading whatever might be coming, I took a long, deep breath and accepted the call.

"_Good luck."_

"H...hello?" I said, hesitantly.

"Laura?" Clint's voice echoed down the phone. He sounded tired, but also like he couldn't quite believe his ears, "Is…"

"Clint? It's me, honey, it's me," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth, "I'm here. I'm..._we're_ back."

"You're back...you're back!" Clint's voice cracked over the line, and I smiled happily.

"We're all back!" I said, "Me, and Cooper, and Lila, and Nate. 'Like we never went away."

There was no reply, but I could hear him sobbing openly on the line.

"I...saw the news, Clint. I know we've been gone for five years, and I'm so...so _sorry,_" I took a deep, wracking breath and plunged on, "I'm so sorry for everything. But we're back now, and we are _never _going away again. Somehow I'll make these past five years up to you. Even if it takes me the rest of our lives, I'll find a way."

"I-I know, honey. It's all going to be okay," he said, audibly composing himself, "I have so much to tell you and the children."

"And I'll listen to it. Every word of it - for as long as you need to talk," I promised, "I love you so much, Clint."

"I love you too, honey," he said, and I could hear the tears creeping back into his voice again, "I'm going to take the Quinjet and come home right away. Can you stay on the phone until I take off? Can I talk to the children?"

"I'd love to-" my phone buzzed angrily, "-but my phone is just about to die on me. Just come home, Clint, and we can talk forever. Just come home."

* * *

Following that phone call, my memory of the rest of the day is...hazy. I rounded up the children to let them know that their dad was coming home as soon as possible, and then got to work doing as much as possible to get the farmhouse back to the state it was this morning.

"_Just best not to think about it, right Laura? If you don't know what to do, do what you know."_

Over the next four hours, we cleaned out the water tank, flushed the taps, swept the floor, dusted the ceiling, checked the fuse box, replaced a length of corroded piping, replaced a wobbly step, and cleaned all the plates and cutlery. Then (following a short break for lunch) I got the children to help me throw out the contents of the larder and drag the irretrievably disgusting fridge over to the road. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't much, but it was a start.

"Thanks, kids," I said, flopping back into a newly cleaned wooden chair, "See what we can do when we work together? It's almost as good as new!"

"When are we going to get power back, mom?" Cooper asked, suddenly, "I need my phone."

"I'd need to phone the power company…" I said, and with that thought, I felt my legs turn to jelly, "Actually, it might be better if dad does it. He'll be home soon."

"But I need my phone!" Cooper protested angrily, "What about my friends?"

"Good god; if you need to use your phone, then just hook it up to the generator!" I snapped, and then took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Coop."

"Sure, mom," he said, but then gave me a look that I wasn't entirely sure I liked, "I'll...go and see if there's any fuel around."

"You do that," I said, and put my head in my hands. Somewhere nearby, I could hear Lila and Nate playing together with some of his toys, and smiled ruefully. With all the electronics either out of power or totally destroyed, it was amazing what kids could do to pass the time.

"_What's gotten _you _so spooked? It's just a phone call."_

"It's...I don't want to talk about it," I groaned, and slipped lower in my seat, "Or think about it. I just want to close my eyes-"

From the other room, I heard Lila and Nate gasp and sit up. A moment later, and just on the edge of hearing, I heard a low, insistent roar that slowly built to a powerful crescendo as it passed overhead at a dangerously low altitude.

"Dad's home!" Lila screamed, and ran outside, "Dad's home, mom!"

In a flash I was on my feet, knocking the chair to the floor with a clatter as I ran outside. Lila, Cooper, and Nat were already running towards the descending jet as it touched down in a nearby field. As it bumped non-too-gently to the ground, the rear cargo door swung ponderously open…and there he was.

In that instant, the world went soft, and the Quinjet's engines suddenly sounded muted and far away. Slowly, carefully, I picked my way towards Clint as he caught Lila and Cooper in a rough bear hug, before kneeling down to ruffle Nat's hair and kiss him on the cheek.

Then he looked up and saw me, and as our gazes locked I smiled and felt my breath catch in my chest. Abandoning caution to the winds I rushed across the field and took his face wonderingly in my hands even as he did the same. For a moment we just stood there, too shocked to speak and too stunned to cry, and afraid to move unless this single, perfect moment was stolen from us.

"You're back," he said gruffly, "You haven't aged a day…"

"_We haven't, but...Laura, look,"_ my mind was clearly troubled, _"Look at those lines. Look at that _haircut_. What's happened to him?"_

"It doesn't matter now," I said, and _then_ the tears came, "You left the house in such a tip, Clint! What have I told you about cleaning up after yourself?"

The smile on his face was like the sun coming up, and my heart soared in response.

"I've missed you all so _much_," he whispered, and then without another word pulled me in for a long, deep kiss.

And at that moment, I knew that whatever had happened, and whatever was going to happen, we could get through it together as a family.

In hindsight, that _was _a bit of a mistake.


	2. Chapter 2: Earth, 2023

**Chapter Two: Earth, 2023**

The next two weeks passed like some kind of second honeymoon. As a family, we played tag in the field, hunted monsters in the forest, and even made time to float toy boats on the stream and roast marshmallows on the firepit in the yard - and Clint loved it. Every moment of every day, from dawn until the kids went to bed, he was with them at all times, enjoying the most random of activities with a look of quiet wonder on his face. In the evenings, he and I would spend time just being _together_ in the living room; often, there were no words exchanged, just Clint and Laura being Clint and Laura - and...frequently making up for lost time, in a manner of speaking. In many ways, it was like I'd stepped through a magic portal into a dimension where my husband was the Most Attentive Man Alive, and for a while that was enough to quieten the ever-present, insistent little voice inside.

Still, that didn't mean that the world stopped turning, and that little voice only got louder with time. We still had to attend Tony Stark's funeral, which was a very moving affair, and...there was Natasha. Stark may have been the P. T. Barnum of the Avengers Initiative, but Natasha had been my friend. One of my only friends, in fact, and the honorary aunt to my children. Her death _hurt_. What hurt more then that was the fact that every time I asked Clint what had happened, he either clammed up or found an excuse to change the subject. Slowly, the quiet times we spent together in the evenings became increasingly awkward.

In many ways, our family was a microcosm of what was going on around the globe. Not everyone had been as fortunate as the children and I; many husbands and wives had popped back into existence to find that their spouses had long since moved on with someone new, or had committed suicide, or had even died of natural causes. Children, too, were coming home from school to find that their families had changed beyond almost all recognition, assuming they hadn't just upped and moved away entirely. The country was being strained to its very limits in attempting to resolve 200 million individual crises, and it was only through the heroic interventions of cadres of volunteers that something was even happening at all.

It wasn't just relationships that had been complicated by this, either; some people had been rendered homeless and jobless in a blink of an eye, their estates and work divided up and given to their next of kin or their colleagues. While there was naturally a huge outpouring of sympathy, and governments were scrambling to do what they could some people were already referring to those who had come back as 'refugees' or 'the Lost'. I got a sense that people were already being pigeon-holed into whether or not they had vanished or not, and those who had gone were invariably the ones who were now left with nothing except a sense of shock and burning injustice. Protests were starting to become a frequent sight in Washington, and the more politically savvy were already starting to take advantage of people's anger. Storm clouds were starting to gather, and barely had the celebrations ended than battle plans were being drawn up.

The first sign that the war had reached our homestead came on the second Saturday in April, when I announced brightly at breakfast that we would need to go and get the children's books and stationary for the upcoming term. At this declaration, Clint set down his fork and gave me a long, curious look.

"Honey, they aren't going back to school yet. That's..."

"Insane!" cut in Cooper.

"Insane? You watch your language, mister!" I snapped.

"But which grade would they be joining?" Clint asked, "Do you seriously expect the school-"

"I expect the school to give them an education, Clint!" I protested, "They can't just spend their lives playing!"

"I know that, honey," he said soothingly, "But the school needs to work out how it's going to _manage_ everything. I'm sure we'll hear something soon."

"...fine," I said, and put my cutlery down firmly on the table, "But if we don't hear anything on Monday, then _you're _going straight down there and talking to the headmistress!"

"I want to go to school, mom," Lila said, poking disconsolately at her food, "I want to see Maisie."

"That's a good idea," I said, looking pointedly at my husband, "It'll do you good to see her."

"She hasn't texted me back. I hope she's okay."

"I'm sure she's fine," I said soothingly, "She probably just had to get a new phone and hasn't got your number."

"Or she's dead," Clint muttered, possibly slightly more loudly than he intended. Lila burst into tears, and Cooper and I gave him a positively venomous look.

"Clint?" I said, through gritted teeth, "Outside, now!"

* * *

As soon as we were outside and the door was shut, I turned on Clint and jabbed him hard in the chest.

"Just what the _hell_ was that about, Clint?" I snarled, "'Or she's dead'? What kind of thing is that to say to your daughter?"

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean for her to hear that," he said contritely, then followed with, "But it's definitely possible. The people who vanished weren't Thanos' only victims, you know."

"What?"

"You weren't...you weren't around to see the chaos, honey," he said, grimly, "Planes crashed, helicopters came down...there were mass pile ups on the highways - and there simply weren't enough medics left to treat the wounded."

"_Makes sense. Planes without pilots have a pretty short flight time. Helicopters too."_

"Right at the start, just after...after you'd gone, I was trying to help at one of the field hospitals. You know, take my mind off what had happened," his voice trembled slightly, and I felt some of my anger drain away, "I remember thinking that the ones who died were the lucky ones."

"Clint, that was a terrible thing to say!"

"It's true, though. That's what I thought."

"Well, don't _ever_ think that again!" I snapped, "We're back, now, and it's going to stay that way."

"But that doesn't mean you can pretend the last five years didn't happen, Laura!" Clint said angrily, "Up until a month ago...you know what? Never mind."

"What? _What_ happened a month ago?" I said, as he turned away, "Sure; let's just keep on not talking about this, shall we?"

"The way I see it, that's pretty clearly what you want!" he said, "You haven't spent any time learning about what's been going on these past five years, you're trying to send the kids back to school as if they've only been on _holiday_, and what did you say about the house last week?"

My mind whirled, and then I said slowly, "It's...like nothing ever happened…?"

"_Actually, that _may_ have been a little insensitive."_

"Things happened, Laura! Lots of things, and they didn't just because you cocooned yourself in this little world of yours!"

"But you don't want to talk about them!" I screamed, "What happened to Natasha, Clint? _What_? Why wasn't there a body at her memorial? How am I going to get closure if you won't let me in?"

Clint's shoulders sagged, and for a moment I thought he was about to finally give in and start talking - but then, at the worst possible time, there came the whirr of an approaching car and the crunch of gravel in the drive.

"I'm going to see who that is," I said, "But this isn't over, mister. Sooner or later you're going to have to start talking."

* * *

"_Maybe you should give him some space,"_ my mind suggested, as I strode angrily around the side of the house to the drive, _"He's clearly been through so much. What have we done? While he was out picking up those lines and that big scar down his back, we spent five years trying and failing to pick up a hotdog."_

"Be quiet," I said.

"_He has a point, though. You're _really_ trying hard not to think about this. Maybe you should think about why that is? Do you actually _want_ to hear what he has to say?"_

"I _want _him to be happy," I said, a little petulantly.

"_And I want a million dollars and a hover car."_

"If having his entire family returned to him isn't going to make him happy, what is?"

"_I'm not sure. But you know as well as I do that you can't wallpaper over what's happened."_

The metallic green car in the driveway wasn't a model I recognised, and from the way it glided along the ground I was pretty sure it had an electric engine. It slowed to a halt as I came around the house, and the door swung open to reveal a tall, kindly-looking woman with greying hair tied up in a severe bun. I knew her from Cooper and Lila's school, although the last time I'd seen her (two months ago) her hair had been a rich chestnut colour, and some of the worry lines on her face had been less pronounced.

"Mrs. Miller?" I said, and smiled, "To what do we owe this visit?"

"Mrs. Barton," she said, in a carefully guarded tone, "It's...very nice to see you well. May I come inside?"

"Of course," I said, "I'll make us some coffee."

"Don't worry about that; I won't be staying long. I just need to pass some important information off to you about your children."

"Funnily enough, we were just talking about that," I said, and held the door open for her to come inside, "Cooper? Lila? It's Mrs. Miller!"

From upstairs, I heard a _bang_ and then a 'thud-thud-thud' as Lila's door flew open, and she came hurtling down the stairs two at a time. Cooper followed at a slouch. It made sense; Lila had always loved Mrs. Miller, while Cooper was somewhat cooler on her particular teaching style.

"Mrs Miller!" Lila cried.

"Lila," Mrs. Miller said, and I could hear the tremolo in her voice, "And Cooper! How are you feeling?"

"Great!" said Lila.

"Confused," said Cooper.

"I'm not surprised," said Mrs. Miller, "And you aren't the only ones. Can we sit?"

I nodded, and my children went through to the dining room. I went to follow, but Mrs. Miller stopped me.  
"Please don't misunderstand me," she said, "I really am _so_ happy to see you all again, but...it's been a trying morning and it's probably going to be a very difficult day for me. If I seem a little distant, it's…"

"It's fine," I thought of Clint momentarily, "It's not easy for anyone."

"How much do they know?"

"As much as anyone, I guess? Cooper's been getting updates through his phone."

"Of course," suddenly all business again, Mrs. Miller strode through and sat down at the table, "Cooper, Lila? I'm here to tell you that, despite the fact that you have both blipped, you will be attending school on Monday."

"What? Oh, come on!" Cooper threw his hands up in the air.

"Hold on," I said, "'Blipped'? Do you mean…?"

"Oh, mom!" my son said, "That's what they're calling this - people who blipped are like us; they disappeared and then reappeared five years later in exactly the same place. Like they blipped out, and then blipped back in again!"

"Indeed," said Mrs. Miller, "Now, in light of the fact that the curriculum has changed significantly over the past five years, and that the current classes are unable to accommodate so many...returnees, you will both be required to repeat your current year prior to progressing to the next one."

"What?" Cooper and Lila said in unison, "But that's not fair! We've just done our midterms!"

"Five years ago," Mrs. Miller said, smoothly, "However, the school board has held an emergency meeting and decided that it is important that we reintegrate 'blipped'," she said the word with some distaste, "pupils back into school. Therefore, we will be running special classes and activities for you and other blipped pupils through to the end of the school year. In addition, you will attend some classes with the children you will be joining next year, in order to give you a chance to meet them and make new friends."

"_And to prevent the formation of any cliques, right?"_ my mind chimed in, _"Clint was right. If the school isn't careful, then they could easily end up with a divide like everywhere else."_

"We will also be offering counselling services for everyone who needs it," Mrs. Miller continued, "These will be available throughout this school year and the next. Although you might not feel like you need it now, we are attempting to be proactive in this regard."

Cooper and Lila nodded slowly, although I wasn't entirely sure they caught the full implications of what she had said.

"If there are no further questions, I shall see you next week."

"Wait - Mrs. Miller," said Lila, "I've been trying to get in contact with Maisie. Is she okay?"

"Maisie is fine, Lila," Mrs. Miller said slowly, "You will probably see her at school."

"Great!" my daughter said, and this time I was _entirely_ sure she hadn't caught the full implication of what Mrs. Miller had said, "I'll see you then, then!"

* * *

"It sounds like you're trying to cover all bases," I said, as I walked Mrs. Miller to the front door.

"We expect this is going to be a very difficult school year," Mrs. Miller, "We will have a large cohort of children with complex issues. At least, we expect to be dealing with significant levels of disorientation and loss amongst the returning pupils."

"You mean, like Lila," I said, "When she discovers that Maisie didn't blip with her, she's going to be heartbroken."  
"I'm...very sorry about that," the teacher sounded like she meant it, "I have to see a lot of families today, many of whom are in far more complicated positions than yours. I hope you can find a way to break it to her gently."

"I'll try my best," I promised, and closed the door behind her with a gentle click. A moment later, I heard her car crunch quietly out of the driveway and drive off down the road. Slowly, I turned my back to the door and sank down to a sitting position with my head in my hands.

"_I get the feeling that this is going to be the start of an absolutely beautiful mess,"_ said my brain, _"And I bet your magic portal isn't feeling so magical anymore, is it."_

"Lila _is_ going to be heartbroken, isn't she."

"_Yup. It's not like she could make that many friends growing up here, in your S.H.I.E.L.D approved safehouse. Maisie was one of the best things that ever happened to her."_

"I guess. Maybe Maisie will be like...a cool big sister?"

"_Based on how the past five years have affected Clint, I'm going to err on the side of cynicism."_

"Oh, right, Clint," I sighed, "What am I going to do about him?"

"_Like I said; g__ive him some space. Let him know that you'll love him no matter what and that when he's ready to talk, you'll be ready to listen."_

* * *

I'll admit, I wasn't _completely_ sold on the idea, but I also knew that I was still angry at Clint. If I went to talk to him now, it would probably last one or two sentences before I lost my temper again. Instead, I went to spent some quality time with my children, which in the end mostly consisted of working out what they would need for school so that we could go into town and get it tomorrow.

I didn't see Clint again until the evening, where I found him out on the porch gazing off into the horizon, turning a small, metallic object over and over again in his hand. On closer inspection, it seemed to be a dog tag.

"Hey," I said. I got no response, but sat down next to him regardless and put my hand on his, "Hey, honey; are you there?"

"Wha-? Oh, sorry; I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"It doesn't matter right now," he said, and I fought the rising tide of anger inside me once again.

"No, of course not," I said, in rather clipped tones, "Mrs. Miller came by earlier. Apparently they _do_ want the children in a week on Monday."

"Really?" Clint sounded dubious, "I guess we know when the shit's going to hit the fan, then. Better be ready after school."

"Mmm," I said, "I'll need you to go and pick up some things with them tomorrow. Just school stuff - you know."

"Sure," he said.

"Anyway...aside from that, I just wanted you to know that I love you - and that's not ever going to change. When you want to talk, I'll be ready to talk..."

"_Good job, Laura," _my mind said,_ "Now, just walk away-"_

"...and I understand what you're going through."

"_-before you say _that_."_

I felt his hand tense under mine, and when he spoke it was in a low, dark voice, "You 'understand' what I'm going through?"

"I-um, I-" I stuttered, "I didn't-"

"Laura, you have _no _idea what I'm going through," he continued, his voice slowly rising, "How can you? You haven't been here for the past five years! You haven't lived-"

I _should _have backed down. I really should have apologised and walked away, but suddenly something inside me just _cracked _and I was seeing red. In a flash I was in front of him, almost nose to nose, and yelling,

"What do you mean by that, Clint?" I snarled, "You think I'm not _trying_? Try me! Why don't you tell me what happened to Natasha, and we'll see what I can understand!"

Clint took a long, deep breath and stood up, "I'm not doing this right now, Laura. Not while the kids are here. I have to make some calls."

"Why?" I said, spitefully, "Are you going to tell _them_ what happened to Natasha?"

"Not at all," he said, and twisted the knife a little himself, "They already know."

"_Smooth, Laura. Real smooth,"_ my inner self muttered, shortly after Clint left, _"You almost had him thinking that you were going to be patient about this, and now he thinks...well, god only knows what he thinks."_

"Shut up. Shut up!" I muttered into my hands, "He…"

"_You're cracking up, Laura. What's going on here? You never used to have this kind of anger about you."_

As much as I wanted to ignore the little voice, she was right. There was a cold, hard anger crystallising in the pit of my stomach, and it had been slowly growing ever since myself and the children had been pitched into this crazy nightmare. It would have been easy for me to place the blame on Clint, with his newfound sense of mystery, his laundry list of unresolved issues, and those strange new tattoos, but even when the red mist came down I knew that I was only lying to myself. I _loved_ Clint, and the fact that just a word from him could make me so indescribably _angry_ was both unbelievable and beyond explanation. I'd never been an angry person before - hell, people had even made jokes about the length of my temper...so why now?

"_I'm not sure, but we'd better figure this out quickly,"_ said the voice, _"Because if this keeps up, or even escalates, then I can't see this marriage thing lasting a whole lot longer."_

* * *

Without saying, our arguments that day put paid to our quiet evenings together. On the one hand, it was a bit of a relief; the silences were becoming increasingly difficult, but on the other hand we both recognised that we were now treading on eggshells around each other, terrified of saying something for fear of setting the other off. As the sun set, I took to the bedroom, where I read and re-read what books had survived, while Clint stayed downstairs and made a series of apparently never ending phone calls. Often I would pretend to be asleep when he came in, and although I was desperate to hug him, or at least hold him, a mixture of stubbornness and simple stupid pride kept getting in my way.

Over the course of the next week, the gulf just seemed to widen further. Worse yet, it began to seep from the evenings into the rest of the day. I could tell that the children had noticed something was wrong, but by that point I was so scared of making things worse that it just seemed better to keep my head down and hope that it would all blow over. Of course, it didn't, and the tension in the house rose to the point where you could cut it with a knife.

The final kick in the teeth came on the night before school. Clint had been more evasive than usual all day, and after the kids went to bed he came into the living room and coughed, gently.

"Yes?" I said, looking up from my book with a mixture of irritation and excitement.

"I, uh, I've got something to tell you," he said, quietly, and my heart leapt in expectation.

"What?" I said, and put my novel down maybe just a little too quickly.

"_Well done, Laura; it looks like the silent treatment has paid off!"_

"Fury's been in contact with me about a job," he said, "And I think I'm going to take it."

"_Or...not."_

"_What_?" I blinked, "I thought you said you were retiring to spend more time with us!"

"Well...with both Steve and Tony gone, the Avengers Initiative is basically dead in the water," he said, quickly, "And besides, this last week hasn't been great for either of us, and I know that a lot of that is my fault. Maybe I need to go and clear my head, before-"

"Okay," I took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to keep the sudden panic out of my voice, "I understand - and you're right; this hasn't been great. But do you really think that running errands for Nick is going to help _us_?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I'm letting you down, and maybe…" he trailed off helplessly. Despite the anger thrumming just below the surface, I felt my heart go out to him.

"_At least he's trying, Laura. You know, in his own, charmingly hackneyed way."_

"Right," I nodded, "So how long will you be gone?"

"I haven't agreed to do it, yet," Clint said, "I told Fury that I would only go if you thought it was okay - but if I do go, it'll be for two weeks."

"Two weeks!" my eyebrows went up, "When would it be?"

"The operation starts in about a month," he said, "They're still hammering out the details. Plus, we kind of need the money."

"Okay, okay…" I pinched the bridge of my nose, "But if you are going, this isn't going to be some kind of separation or something like that. You and me-" I said, pointing between us, "-we're going to sort out our issues, by hook or by crook. We can't keep on like this, and it's not fair on the kids, either - deal?"

My husband smiled; it was only a small smile, but it was there nonetheless, "Deal."

"Good," I said, and picked up my book once again, "Well, I'm going to bed. 'Have to be up early to see the kids off to the bus."

A little while later I was lying in bed, turning my thoughts over and over in my mind. Actually, that had gone pretty well; although I wasn't _entirely_ happy at the prospect of Clint putting himself in danger again, the fact he had agreed so willingly to try and sort out our issues was a good sign, right?"

"_Remember, that's _'_our'_ _issues, as distinct from _'your'_ issues. We still haven't worked out where all this pent up anger is coming from, have we."_

"No," I admitted, "I suppose not."

My phone buzzed on the bedside table, and the brilliant white screen lit up the bedroom. Groaning, I turned over and picked it up to see who would possibly be contacting me this late at night. Interestingly, the number was neither in my contacts list or one that I recognised from memory, but it said the following:

'_MRS. BARTON:_

_Your couples counselling session is booked for 11:00am at the address below. Please arrive 10 minutes early for your first session. We look forward to seeing you there!'_

There was no name, but the address was maybe 10 miles away and a little closer to one of the nearby towns.

"_Couples counselling? This must be Clint's doing. He sure acts fast when he's...motivated."_

"Yeah, he does," I said, and smiled happily in the dark, "He certainly does."


	3. Chapter 3: A therapist named 'Therapist'

**Chapter Three: A therapist named "Therapist"**

The childrens' first day of school dawned cold and blustery, which was a pretty good match for the mood in the house. Both Cooper and Lila were subdued as they ate their breakfast, and I could clearly see their anxiety grow as the time for the school bus drew near.

"It's going to be fine, kids," Clint said, again, "Remember, half of your classmates went through exactly the same thing."

"They're going to think we're freaks," Cooper muttered.

"No, Coop, no," I said quickly, and knelt down beside him, "You aren't a freak. _Neither_ of you are freaks. Nothing's changed."

"If nothing's changed, then why're you and dad fighting all the time?" Lila said, anxiously, "You didn't used to fight."

"It's...complicated, darling," I said reassuringly, "But it'll be okay. We're going to talk to someone while you're at school. Everything will be fine."

"You keep saying that, mom," Cooper said.

"_Maybe because you think that if you say it enough times, you'll end up believing it yourself?"_

"Because it's true!" I said firmly, "Now, you are both going to go to school, and you are going to enjoy yourselves. Don't let anyone tell you that you're a freak because you...went away, do you understand?"

"Yeah. Go get 'em, kids," Clint said, "You're going to be great!"

There was a blast of a horn from somewhere up the road, and in the distance I could hear the crunch of large tyres coming down the country road.

"And that sounds like the bus!" I said, brightly, "Okay, children; grab your bags and let's go!"

Normally, Cooper and Lila were more than capable of catching the bus by their lonesome, but today we felt the need to see them off ourselves. As a family, we waited outside the homestead until the bus came to a juddering stop and the doors hissed open. The bus driver gave us a long, curious look, and then his face split into a wide smile.

"Cooper! Lila! Welcome back!" he said, cheerfully, "Come aboard and give me a high five."

At that moment, I could have kissed that bus driver. My children looked uncertainly at each other, and then at us.

"Well, go on!" Clint said, and muttered to Cooper, "'Told you you were going to be great."

Cooper and Lila climbed aboard and gave the bus driver a slightly half-hearted high five. As they boarded, I heard the chatter in the bus drop to an almost palpable silence, and felt my hands go clammy-

-and then the bus erupted into shouts and whoops, and the suspension creaked in protest as pupils rushed forward to hug, high five, and shake the hands of my children. Towards the back of the bus, a chant of 'Bar-ton! Bar-ton!' started, combined with the rhythmic slamming of feet on the bus floor.

The bus driver looked at me, and there was a distinct note of pride in his voice as he said, "The kids've been doin' that for every child who's blipped. It seems like a way of...welcomin' them back into the fold."

"It's amazing," I whispered, almost too choked up for words, "_They're_ amazing."

"I'm tellin' you; they know what's goin' on," the bus driver said, "All of these fights between non-Blippies and Blippies? No offence," he said quickly, "But when you see these kids, you realise how totally _pointless_ it all is."

"Yeah," said Clint, smiling gently, "Kids really can surprise you."

"See you later, mom!" Lila shouted, leaning out of the window, "I'll let you know how I get on with Maisie!"

Something about that sentence struck me as odd as we waved the bus out of sight, and it wasn't until we turned to get Nat off to kindergarten that it hit me.

"Oh no," I gasped, "Clint! I forgot to tell her about Maisie!"

* * *

"I can't believe it," I was still saying, twenty minutes later, "I can't believe I forgot. It was the one thing I meant to do after Mrs. Miller left, but then we had that fight, and-"

"_Yeah. Who knew that being totally self-absorbed could _possibly_ have downsides?"_

"It's _okay_," Clint said, for possibly the hundredth time, "I'm not sure that you telling her would have helped her much, anyway. It's going to be a huge shock no matter what happens."

"I'm the worst mother ever," I wailed.

"No, you've just been...distracted."

"That's a nice way of putting it."

It was obviously too late for me to catch the bus by the time I had realised. Even if I could, there was no way I would be able to tell my daughter about her best friend in such a way that wouldn't prompt a massive freak out. Going to school after everything that had happened was a pretty big achievement in and of itself, and I wasn't about to put a damper on that through my own forgetfulness.

"_Are you _sure_ you really forgot, Laura?"_ the little inner voice said, darkly, _"'Seems more to me like you're avoiding something."_

After dropping off Nate, we plugged the address for the couples counselling into the car satnav, and we were on our way. One of the big surprises for me had been the day that Clint had brought home an electric car, but he pointed out that they had become increasingly common during the five years I had been napping, and charging points were becoming as common, if not more common than the 'old fashioned' gas pumps. Still, it seemed to be pleasant enough, and I settled back comfortably into the plush leather seat as we hummed down the country roads to our destination.

Looking around, I was surprised how _little_ had changed - or rather, how little growth there had been. For every home or farmstead that was occupied, there were two or three ramshackle shells with broken windows, rotting timbers, and even simply reduced to burned out shells. Although here and there I could see signs of construction and life starting to return to normality, the overwhelming feeling was one of desolation and abandonment. As I watched, I felt the knot in my stomach slowly intensify, and shrank down in my seat until only the sky was visible.

"When...it happened, a lot of people just got out and didn't come back," Clint said quietly, apparently sensing my disquiet, "They just couldn't stay - well, I know I couldn't. Others? The entire family vanished and left the gas on. One spark later and _boom_."

"_You know, in a strange way we were kind of lucky. Imagine what it would have been like if we'd come back to a bombed-out farmstead. What would we have done _then_?"_

"Maybe they'll come back home?" I said hopefully, "Everyone's back, so…"

"It's not going to be that easy, honey," Clint said, "It's going to take time."

"I know," I nodded and reached over to squeeze my husband's leg. It was one of the first signs of affection between us in several days, and he tensed slightly at my touch.

"Thank you for doing this," I said, and gave him a wan smile, "It really means a lot to me."

"...yeah," he said.

We continued in silence for a little longer down the long, lonely road, and after a little while, a collection of large, ugly buildings came into view. As we drew closer, it became apparent that this was a partially built strip mall that had simply been abandoned at some point in the past. While some of the buildings looked close to completion, others were were still little more than hulls, with partially collapsed scaffolding and rebar latticework still scattered around their bases. Rust and decay was in evidence everywhere, and I could hear the wind sighing as it whispered disconsolately through the run down construction.

"Odd place for a therapist," I remarked, as Clint pulled into the oversized carpark. He nodded, his expression suddenly wary as he scanned the shadows and the rooftops, "You don't think-"

"I'm not sure what to think," he said firmly, "But I'm sure I don't like it. Wait here for a second."

Clint cut the engine and got out slowly, rechecking the surrounding area as he did so. He vanished from view, and a moment later there was a click of the trunk opening, followed by a telltale _'clink'_ and the rustle of leather.

"You brought your _bow?_" I said, maybe a little more loudly than I intended, "Are you-"

"Ssh!" he said harshly, and I shut up immediately. He came round to my side, an arrow nocked but not drawn, and directed me to open the car door. As carefully as I could, I slipped out and knelt down in the shade beside him.

"Is this really necessary?" I whispered.

"Don't know yet," he said, curtly, "Better to be prepared though, right?"

"Well, I didn't come prepared to hide behind our car in the middle of the car park!" I hissed, "Which way are we going?"

"We're going to get to cover," he said and popped his head above the bonnet, "Over there; I think I see a sign. I'll go first, and you follow right behind me - okay?"

"Okay," I said, and felt my heart beat a little faster despite myself. My husband tightened his grip on his bowstring, and set off with a catlike tread. I followed suit, doing my best (and failing) to emulate his low, quiet run across the car park towards the promised cover.

"_Do you realise that, all these years we've never actually seen Clint in action - being 'Hawkeye'?" _my mind piped up, _"You've gotta admit, its sexy as hell."_

"This really isn't the time!" I muttered, "This could be a trap!"

"_Please. A box propped up with a stick would make a better trap. You may as well take the time and enjoy the view - I mean, look at him!" _my inner voice took on a rather lecherous tone,_ "He's clearly been keeping up those glute exercises over the years, right?"_

"You know, if I'd really thought I'd need my bow, I would've brought my commando leathers as well," Clint - or rather Hawkeye - muttered.

"_Mmmmm. That's just too bad,"_ my inner voice sighed, and then added, _"Look, Laura - I really need you to play your cards right here. If all goes well today, there could be an evening with those commando leathers with our name on it, capische?"_

"I'm not sure they're designed for the bedroo-"

"_Who said anything about the bedroom? Shut up and play along, or so help me god I'll give you a migraine you won't soon forget!"_

Hawkeye flattened himself against the wall next to the sign, and a moment later I joined him.

"So far, so good," he said quietly, and then gave me a look of mild concern, "Are you okay? You look a little flushed."

"I'm...I'm fine!" I protested, but I could feel the blush already deepening in my cheeks, "Is it hot out here, or is it just me?"

The concern turned to confusion, and then I watched, mortified, as light slowly dawned in his eyes.

"It's not just you," he said, with a roguish smirk and a subtle wink. Somewhere inside, my mind was making strangled noises and jumping up and down for attention. Any more of this and it would probably start panting like a cartoon dog.

"Look," I said, taking a deep breath, "Are we where we're meant to be or not?"

"Well, this sign says so," Hawkeye said, and pointed to the sign next to him. Actually, to call it a sign was probably an overstatement; what it was was poorly aligned stencilled graffiti that said 'Therapy' with an arrow pointing around the side of the building, "Although…"

"_Yeah, that's not great. We should forget about the counselling and go-"_

"And look at this," he said, looking down with some distaste, "Whoever did this seems to have left half their sandwich on the floor."

He wasn't wrong - there was a heavy dusting of what appeared to breadcrumbs on the floor around the graffiti and leading off in the same direction as the arrow, around the side of the building and out of sight.

"There's no fillings," I pointed out, "It's just...breadcrumbs. Do you think we should follow it?"

Hawkeye nodded, and with a wry little grin made a circling motion with his finger before setting off, his bow still half drawn and on the lookout for potential trouble. Once again, I slipped in behind him and followed as best I could, while doing my best to quieten the sounds of wolf whistles ringing in my head.

The breadcrumb trail followed around the side of the warehouse and vanished underneath a small, nondescript white door set into the wall. Hawkeye gave the knob a careful twist, and then motioned me to stay back. In a single, smooth motion he unlocked the door and silently slipped inside, and then a hand emerged and beckoned me in.

The interior of the warehouse was totally unfinished, but a surprisingly large amount of light spilled in through the unfinished roof. Quietly, we crossed the large, open expanse, and followed the now rather intermittent trail up a set of metal stairs to the foreman's office on the second floor, where it ended. Curiously, the small room had no windows looking out onto the warehouse, and the door itself was just another nondescript sheet of white MDF with a simple brass knob.

"Well, here we are," Hawkeye said tensely, "Ready?"

"Ready!" I whispered.

"_He's going to kick the door in! He's going to actually _kick it in_!"_

"Okay," he said, "Stand back!"

Once again, I stepped back and watched admiringly as Hawkeye sized up the door, and then stepped forward and put his boot firmly on the knob. With a loud _'crack!'_ the door swung inwards and Hawkeye was through in a flash, his bowstring fully drawn and thrumming with barely restrained power as he scanned the room for targets. I was through immediately after him, almost unable to restrain my grin-

-and then we both stopped. The room itself was a surprisingly bare affair; there were two small folding tables, and a rather simple looking wooden desk - and that was it. Behind the desk was sitting a slight, but athletic individual wearing a grey T-shirt and a horrible mustard-yellow beanie cap. At the sound of the door caving in, he looked up and gave us a rather cool look with a pair of strangely purple eyes, moving only to brush a piece of door off his shoulder.

"I _knew_ I should've left that bloody door open," he said, with a strong English accent, "Still, full marks for that entry. Haven't seen someone do that in quite a long time."

"We-"

"And you may as well put that bow away, mate," he continued, with a slightly weary tone, "We both know that you aren't going to shoot me."

"_I _don't know that," said Hawkeye, "And I'm not your 'mate'."

"That's true; we haven't _exactly _gotten off to a great start here," the man conceded, "On the other hand, it's not the _worst_ thing I've had shoved in my face...in any case, you're still not going to shoot me - not with that bow."

"Why not?"

"Because the safety's still on."

There was a slightly stunned pause, and then Hawkeye said, "What safety? This is a _bow_."

"Excuse me," I said, sharply, and both men looked in my direction, "Are you...our marriage counselor?"

The man frowned, "That's what it says on the door."

"Actually, it doesn't say _anything_ on the door."

"Doesn't it?" he craned to look, and then said "Oh, bugger. Sorry - I've been so busy moving things in that I forgot to put it up. But if the sign's not up, how did you find this place?"

"Breadcrumbs," Hawkeye said, and pointed at the dust on the stairs. At this, the man looked skywards and gave a long, drawn out sigh.

"My word; I guess that bag _was_ leaking, then. Isn't this just getting off to a _perfect_ start?" he shook his head, and then drew himself up, "Let's try this again, shall we? Please; pull up a chair. I apologise for the…"

"Spartan?" I fielded a guess.

"...Spartan...Spartan," the man said it a couple of times, as if he was tasting the word, "Yeah, that's a good one. I apologise for the _Spartan_ nature of the room; I've only just arrived."

"From England?" I raised my eyebrows, "Sorry; we don't get many English people in Missouri."

"_Tell him you love his accent."_

"I'm not English, actually," the man said, "I'm getting that an awful lot, though - right before they tell me that they 'loooove my accent'. I invariably get asked if I know someone called 'Dave', too."

"_Or don't. He seems like a bit of a jerk."_

"So…" Hawkeye said, "I've got a question for you; what's your name?"

"My name?" for just a moment, the therapist seemed uneasy, "It's...immaterial."

"That's an odd name."

This time, it was the turn of the therapist to pause, "It means it doesn't matter."

"Well, it kind of matters to me," Hawkeye challenged immediately, "I mean, what do we call you?"

"You can call me 'Therapist'?" he shrugged, "I mean, it's a name of _sorts_."

"Are you really not going to tell us your name?" I said, "Don't you think that's a bit suspicious?"

"These sessions aren't about me," he said, pointedly, "As for whether or not I'm suspicious, I'll have to leave that to the judges to decide - that's you, by the way."

"In that case, I'm going to call you 'Thera'," I declared, "Therapist is a bit of a mouthful."

"'Thera'?" the man considered this, and chuckled slightly, "Okay, I can live with that. I suppose the alternative would be 'pissed', and I'd rather not have people think I'm drunk on the job."

"Another question," said Hawkeye. He was starting to relax, however, and in my minds eye I was already mentally thinking of him as 'Clint', again, "What's with your eyes?"

"What about my eyes?" the newly-christened Thera brought his hands up to his eyes with some surprise, "What, are they bloodshot or something?"

"They're purple," Clint pointed out, "That's not normal."

"Oh? _Oh_, sorry," Thera smiled, and wiped his hand across his forehead, "They're contact lenses. Goodness - for a moment I thought that there was something wrong with them! Anyway, if there are no further questions-" he said, in the clear tones of someone who was moving on, "Firstly, I'd like to thank you both for coming. Admitting that you're having problems in your marriage is challenging, and I have to say that you've already done the most difficult part by coming through that door…" he gave the door a long, hard look, "Even if you did destroy the lock."

"Um-"

"I'm also going to say that everything that we talk about in this room is completely confidential. However, if you do reveal to me information about abuse, either of one another or someone else then I will be required to pass that information onto the authorities. If I do so, then I will discuss it with you first to let you know that that is what is going to happen. Is that okay?"

As one, we nodded.

"Grand," he said, leaning back, "Now, let's talk about some feelings, shall we? Who wants to go first?"

"_Not us!"_

"I, um…would you like to go first?" I looked over at Clint, who looked helplessly back at me.

"No, please - the floor's all yours," he said graciously.

"Oookay," Thera said, "One way I have of breaking the deadlock is to have the person who made the appointment go first. Which one of you was that?"

"_Score!"_

"Oh, that was Clint," I said, and tried to keep the note of relief out of my voice.

"No it wasn't," he protested, "I thought you made the appointment."

"I just got a text!"

"So did I!"

"I'm sorry," said Thera, pinching the bridge of his nose "Are you saying that neither of you made the appointment, but that you got in a car, traveled all the way here, and then burst through that door like a pair of bloody commandos _without realising that fact_?"

"_Okay, I'm not really sure which is weirder. That neither of us made the appointment, or that we didn't realise that."_

"Um…" I looked again at Clint, who also looked rather abashed, "That...might be the case."

"Interesting," Thera said, and then looked us brightly, "Well, if nothing else that demonstrates that you're having trouble communicating. But I digress. I guess we'll go with eeny-meeny-miney-you-" he pointed at Clint, "Just tell me what you're thinking. Right here, right now."

Clint coughed, and then spoke in a low, halting tone, "I feel...like the luckiest man on the planet. In the universe. I _am_ the luckiest man in the universe. I've been given a second chance with my family. But I feel like I'm _wasting_ it."

"_Oh my god,"_ my mind said, and my heart went out to him, _"He really thinks that?"_

"I just can't talk to Laura," he continued, "I can't find the right words, and then we end up having some kind of big blazing row _because_ I can't find the right words."

"That's-" I began, but Thera held up his hand and gave me a gentle, but firm look.

"I know I've changed, and I know that it has to be so confusing for Laura and the kids. I _know_ I need to tell them what's been going on while they've been away. It's just..." he spread his hands helplessly, "Where do I begin?"

"So, you feel like you're unable to talk to your wife and children about the events of the past five years, and that's causing...a rift to develop between yourself and Laura?" Thera asked, and Clint nodded, "And how does that make you feel?"

"Sad, I guess. And frustrated. And...angry, I guess. At myself, though," he said, and added quickly, "But not at Laura. This isn't Laura's fault."

There was a pause and then the Thera said, "Would you like a tissue, Laura? Hold on, I think I have some back here somewhere."

"I'm...I'm...thanks," I said, and gratefully took the proffered tissue for my eyes, "Is it my turn now?"

"Yeah, g'wan."

"Well...this all still seems like a dream," I started, occasionally dabbing at my eyes, "I mean, I pick up a hotdog and five years passes? It's unbelievable! And then I can see that my husband's suffering because of things I don't know about and that makes me sad, but then I can't talk to him about it and that makes me just...so _angry_. I mean, we're back, aren't we? I know its stupid, and its selfish, but part of me is saying 'isn't that enough'? I want him to be happy...and I'm failing."

"'I just want him to be happy'," the therapist repeated, and took a deep breath, "Well, let's just dispel that one right now, shall we? I mean, I want a legion of supermodels to descend from on high with a treasure chest full of diamonds and sing songs about my burgeoning masculinity in perfect harmony, but…" he spread his hands, "I don't exactly swim in the same circles as supermodels."

"_And you feel like that's the main obstacle?" _my mind said, a little unkindly, _"You're optimistic."_

Thera smiled wryly, as if something funny had just occurred to him, "In any case, what have you done to 'make' him happy?"

"I...well…"

"Trick question," he said immediately, and his smile turned a little cynical, "You can't _make_ Clint happy, and it's not your fault if he isn't. Do you agree, Clint?"

"...yeah," my husband said, and gave me a smile, "Nothing that's happened has been your fault, Laura. None of it."

"I...I know," I bit out. Thera didn't look convinced, but apparently let it slide.

"Look - guys?" he said, "The difficulties you're describing here? They're _normal_. I mean, think about it. You, Clint; you saw your family die right in front of your eyes, and for the past five years you've been living some kind of half-life, drifting around just doing _everything_ to avoid allowing yourself to truly grieve-"

"I _was_ grieving!" Clint said, half rising from his chair.

"I...would say you were more expressing your _wrath_," Thera said, and there was something significant in the look he gave Clint, "-but we'll come back to that another time. What you can't expect is for the past three weeks to just wipe out the five years before that. Laura here could spend the rest of her life making you the happiest man alive, and even _that_ wouldn't wipe out these past five years. I'm afraid that this kind of trauma simply doesn't work like that."

"So what's the point of all this, then?" my husband challenged.

"To_ acknowledge_ that it _did_ happen, Clint, and to help you find the best ways to express that. You said you can't talk to your wife about it? That's what we're here for," Thera pressed his lips together, "Look, I'm not going to pretend that I can wave my hand and fix your problems overnight. What _we_ can do, hopefully, is to work together to make sure that your 'second chance' doesn't burn up on re-entry. Yeah?"

Clint nodded, and suddenly I found myself in Thera's headlights, "And you, Laura; while this was going on? You were dead-"

"I was _gone_," I said insistently.

"-until you weren't," he continued smoothly, "That's just five years in the blink of an eye. I mean, that's all I can say about you right now, because you didn't experience _anything_ during that period. It's not strange to feel disoriented and disconnected from the world, and it's also not strange to have difficulty..._feeling_ a lot about what happened when you were gone. Think about it - when was the last time you broke down sobbing when you heard about an earthquake on the other side of the world?"

"I haven't," I said honestly, "I've felt bad about it, but...not for long."

"No, of course not. Nobody does," Thera said, waving his hand dismissively, "And I'm not about to say that you're a bad person for not going through life weeping over every newly orphaned child in some war-torn country. The human brain just doesn't work like that."

"But your point is...?"

"That to you, the whole of the _last five years_ will be like an earthquake on the other side of the world. Unless you know someone who was hurt, or it was something that happened to Clint..." he shrugged, "You're going to have difficulty really caring, because it just won't seem real."

"But what does this mean for us?" my husband asked, leaning forwards in his folding chair.

"Well, there's the crux of the problem. _You, _Clint, have lived five years of very real pain and privation, whereas for _you_-" he nodded curtly at me, "Those very same events will likely never be any closer than a newspaper article or a news report. You're seeing the same world from two very different viewpoints, so its not _surprising_ that you're having trouble connecting."

"I suppose that's difficult to argue with," I admitted, "So how do we reconnect?"

"Well, how does anyone connect?" he spread his hands, "Go out, have fun; do something completely new together that you've never done before as a couple."

"_I can think of a few things we've never done before as a couple."_

"With time, and some further sessions here, you'll be able to open up to each other that little bit more. It's going to be slow, and it's going to be frustrating, but...we play the hand we're dealt."

"So you think we have a chance?" Clint said, and I smiled as I detected the note of hope in his voice.

"I can't guarantee anything," Thera said, "I can honestly say that I've _never_ been in this position before, so I can't guess at what the outcome would be. Looking at your body language, and the way that Laura smiled at that last comment of yours, though...? I think you both want to make it work, and that's probably the most important thing. So, are we in?"

"Definitely," I said. I took Clint's hand and gave it a squeeze, and a moment later he smiled and nodded.

"Okay. I think we'll leave it there for today," said Thera, "I know it was quick, but I just needed to meet you and gauge the lay of the land before working out what to do next. Until next time, I'd say that the most important thing to remember is to be patient and forgiving of each other, and of yourselves. You're both going to screw up and say things that makes the other one angry, so just be open and honest and try not to let it degenerate into a shouting match, okay? We'll get there. Now-" he got up, and started ushering us gently towards the exit, "If you'll excuse me, I have to go and take out these damn contact lenses."

* * *

"I can't believe you kicked his door in!" I said excitedly, as we walked quickly back to the car, "I've never seen anyone do that in real life!"

"Sorry," Clint smiled, a little shyly, "I think we might have gotten a little carried away."

"Maybe at the end there, but...oh my _word_. I'm surprised he didn't jump six feet into the air!"

"Mmm," my husband looked strangely thoughtful, but I had another question on my mind.

"_Go on, ask him."_

"Um, Clint?" I said hesitantly, taking his hand, "Did you really mean what you said to him? That you felt like the luckiest man in the universe?"

"Every word of it," he said sincerely. I looked up at him and smiled.

"I feel the same way," I said, and added quickly, "Obviously, not about being a man, but you get what I mean. I'm so sorry that I keep blowing up at you; I'm just so confused at the moment, and-"

"Whoa, easy," he said, "What did the therapist say? You need to slow down and forgive yourself, Laura," he paused, and then added, "Me, too. In fact..."

He trailed off, a somewhat pensive look on his face.

"What?" I said curious. In response, he took a long, deep breath.

"How about we go for a drive?" he suggested, and handed me the keys "You can drive, actually; I reckon you've probably gotten a bit out of practice over the last five years."

"Cute," I said. Even though I appreciated the attempt at humour, it still hurt a little inside, "Okay, fine; I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong!"

It was about ten miles down the road that Clint asked me to pull over. After a few more minutes searching, I found a small turnoff into a peaceful sun dappled glade and brought the car to a steady stop.

"Okay, Clint - what's the matter?" I asked. I could see the tension; his hands were white where he was gripping the overhead handle, his jaw was clenched, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, "Hey; you okay?"

"I'm okay," he said, and took another long, deep breath, "I'm okay. I was just thinking about what that guy was saying - about forgiving ourselves. I think I've realised something."

"What?"

"_Hold on, girl. Give him time. Be _patient_."_

I waited, and waited, while Clint obviously struggled to find the right words. When he finally did speak, it was like every word was being dragged out of him, inch by inch.

"Natasha," he began, "Natasha...died on a planet called Vormir."

I inhaled sharply, both shocked at what he was saying and amazed that he was saying it.

"A month ago, she found me in Japan," he said, softly, "I was a mess - a total mess. It was one of the lowest points of my life. But she ignored that; she told me that there was a...a possible way to bring you, the children, and everyone back," he looked at me, and I saw tears standing in his eyes, "What else was I going to do? Any hope was better than none."

"Everyone had a job to do, and we all _had_ to succeed," he went on, "If any one of us failed, then we wouldn't be able to reassemble the Gauntlet, and then..." he looked at me again, "There wouldn't be any hope. Natasha and I _had_ to get the Soul Stone - whatever it took. No matter what the price."

Slowly, I reached out and put my hand gently on his.

"When we got there, there was a man...a man with a red skull," he continued, in the same steady monotone, "And that's when we found out what _our_ price was. We had to make a sacrifice; a soul for a soul - a person who we loved. That meant...one of us had to die."

"_Oh, god."_

"She was so _certain_ it had to be her," he said, his voice steadily picking up speed and emotion, "I tried to stop her, I _tried_, Laura! I was this close, but..." he trailed off, "I failed."

"But if you had succeeded, you would've-" I said, and felt a chill pass over me.

"_You would have come back to find Natasha waiting for you, not Clint."_

"I was ready," he said, "I _thought_ I was ready. Even though I knew exactly that would've meant."

I stared at him for a long, hard moment while anger and sorrow battled for control. One part of me wanted to grab him and scream at his selfishness, his willingness to widow me and leave his children without a father. Maybe a week ago that's exactly what I would have done, but I was starting to know better.

"'Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends," I said, and despite my anger, I gave him a warm, reassuring smile, "It was a terrible choice to have to make, and you were willing to sacrifice yourself to save her lives, and ours."

"See, I'm not so sure that I was," he said, slowly, "I think...I may have thrown the fight, or at least I didn't try as hard as I could-"

"Stop, Clint," I said gently, "Natasha sacrificed herself of her own free will. She was willing to die because she loved you, loved me, loved _all_ of us, just like you. Don't take that away from her, and don't ever doubt that you did the right thing."

"What do you mean?" he frowned.

"Look, I love Nat - loved Nat, but...this is always how it was going to end for her. She was _so _desperate to 'balance her ledger' that she just kept on throwing herself against greater and greater odds; eventually, one of them was going to get the better of her. Thanks to you, though, her sacrifice saved the lives of billions - _trillions_, probably. It _meant_ something," I squeezed his hand, "What more could you have done for her?"

At that moment, my husband just _shattered_, and I leaned over to enfold him in a tight hug as he curled over in his seat, shaking with long, wracking sobs. One of his hands clutched at mine so tightly that I had to grit my teeth, and I gently stroked his back as he wept like a heartbroken child.

"It's okay, honey," I said, comfortingly, "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay..."

We stayed there for maybe half an hour while Clint recovered. Eventually, however, he uncurled and sat up in the car, his face red and raw from his tears.

"Thank you, honey," he said sincerely, "Honestly, why would I need that therapist when I've got you?"

"Because without him, we might not be talking?" I said honestly, "I've been pretty crazy over these past few days."

"Me too," he said, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to talk to you about Natasha before. I'm-"

"I wouldn't have been in a position to listen," I said firmly, "Hell, I almost slapped you right then when you told me you were prepared to die to save us. Honestly, I was _this_ close."

"_Yeah, if he dies before we get to see those commando leathers then there's going to be hell to pay."_

"You didn't, though," he smiled, and in that moment I fancied that a few cracks may have appeared in the wall between us, "Speaking of that therapist, though...Laura, there's something not right about him."

"What do you mean?"

"You said it yourself - you were surprised he didn't 'jump six feet into the air'. Even Natasha reacted the first time I came at her with a bow."  
"You _were _ordered to assassinate her," I pointed out, "You'd kind of expect a response."

"Yeah, but she was still a trained...well, _assassin_," he said, "I kick that door down, charge in and...nothing! All he does is complain about the lock."

"He did have that accent, though. Maybe he was just... reserved."

"I've worked with Brits before, Laura. I think you might be confusing them with Vulcans."

"Well, he also didn't seem quite all there."

"That was an act; I'm sure of it," Clint certainly _did_ sound like he was sure of it, "He knew an _awful_ lot about us, too, even...sensitive things."

"Are you sure?"

"You remember how when we moved to Missouri, Fury helped us cover our tracks as best as he could?"

"Yeah."

"Nobody can help people hide like Fury can. Not even the _Avengers_ knew about you and the kids. Not even Stark."

"_Thank heavens for small mercies, I guess."_

"But now, we just _happen_ to receive an unexplained appointment for a marriage counselling service at the very time that we're having difficulties, who just _happens_ to have set up in the local area and just _happens_ to be a one man band who almost knows more about us than we know ourselves? I'm serious; do you really think some random therapist would know what I've been doing for the past five years? _I_barely know what I've been doing for the past five years! Something's rotten here, Laura, I can _smell _it."

"Well, what do you want to do about it? Should we call Fury?"

Clint paused, and then smiled a nasty little smile, "No. I say that we do exactly what he said to do. I say that we go and do something completely new together that we've never done before as a couple, by which I mean we find out what that superior-sounding Limey bastard knows, and then we nail him to the nearest wall."

"_Ooh, look at _him_! He's all fired up! Don't ruin this for us, Laura!"_

"Do you _really_ want my help in this?" I said, uncertainly, "Aren't I...a little underqualified?"

"_Oh, come _on_!"_

"Well, now that Natasha is KIA, I need a new partner," he said, with just a hint of forced casualness, "I need a sexy, enthusiastic femme fatale who has three kids, knows how to field strip a petrol generator, and has more bravery and resourcefulness in her little finger than half the Avengers do in their entire bodies."

"Weelll…"

"It's gotta be you, Laura, it can't be anyone else. Are you in?"

I gave him a long, hard look, and realised that my little inner voice was right. In his eyes, I saw the kind of fire that I used to see, way back before he joined S.H.I.E.L.D. For just a moment the pain was gone, and I could see right through to the core of the man I loved.

"_You grasp this moment, Laura. Grasp it with both hands and hang on tight, because this, _this_, is our way back home."_

"You know what? Yeah," I said, and smiled a nasty little smile of my own, "I'm in."


	4. Chapter 4: On the Home Front

**Chapter Four: On the home front**

I drove back home as fast as I could, a sense of almost unbearable excitement building inside me as we drew closer to the farmstead. Clint, too, seemed to be a little bit more upbeat, and even if he wasn't as fired up as me at the prospect of undertaking some clandestine operations he was at least amused by my apparent eagerness to get started.

"_I mean, the most likely outcome of all of this is that you're simply stalking some poor, innocent therapist, but as long as you're having fun...right?"_

As soon as we got home, he hopped out of the car and told me to go wait in the living room while he headed upstairs. A short while later, he came back down dragging a large steel suitcase with an annoyingly squeaky wheel, which he dragged into the centre of the room and laid down on the carpet.

"So what's in there?" I said, "Spy gear? Night vision goggles?"

"Better," he said, and methodically popped off one catch after another, "I think you're going to like this one."

With the final catch removed, Clint lifted the top off the suitcase to reveal the upper half of a shiny black sphere and a pair of gloves. He picked up the gloves and then, after a moment's consideration, handed them over for me to put on.

"Not all our planning went on at Stark tower or the Avengers HQ," he said, "Sometimes we had to think of something...on the fly, I suppose, and Stark came up with _this_."

"What is 'this', exactly?" I said, and then added suspiciously, "And why do _you_ have it?"

"It was in the Quinjet," he said, a little evasively, "And I figured that it might be better for me to make use of it rather than have Fury or Potts just put it into storage."

"So you stole it?"

"If you turned any one of the Avengers upside down and shook them, I'd bet that you'd find enough Stark tech to set you up for life," he said, "He may have been a mess, but the stuff Tony made was just too useful not to keep around - especially considering what we've been up against."

"So what do you _think_ we're 'up against', then?" I said, "And how is this thing going to help us?"

"Press your thumb and forefingers together, and hold them for one...two…"

The black sphere suddenly blazed to life, and windows of light popped into existence all around us. Most of them made little sense to me to me; there was a picture of the world with a number of pins on it, and a series of graphs and reports that seemed to be associated with each pin. Here and there, though, there was something a little clearer; there was a map of Tokyo with a bright red marker positioned on a set of large, important looking buildings. There were also a number of photos, too; some of them were grainy, and others were clearly captured from CCTV footage, but they were all of the same hooded man carrying a sword on his back.

"Wow," I said, momentarily lost for words, "We _cannot_ tell the children about this."

"No," Clint said, and I picked up the sudden tension in his voice, "Um...what you'll need to do is close this file and open up a new one for our therapist. Just clap your hands together-"

I did so, and the images vanished. It was replaced with a grid of images, indicating various people or things that I assumed had been of interest to the Avengers in the past.

"Okay, just point at-"

"I've got it," I said quickly, and pointed at an empty cell. It expanded, revealing a number of empty spots where we could presumably enter data.

"Right - okay," Clint said, with some apparent relief, "So what do we know about this guy?"

"Not a whole lot," I said, "We don't know his name-"

"Well, let's just put 'Thera' in for now," he said. A soft keyboard popped up when I pointed at the 'name' spot, and I quickly tapped out the name.

"Height?"

"He wasn't hugely tall, was he," I thought about it, "I think he was maybe slightly shorter than you. He wasn't heavily set, either."

"Hair colour?"

"Don't know," I said, "He was wearing that horrible beanie cap."

"Eye colour?"

"You said they were purple, but _he_ did say they were contacts."

"He could have been lying," Clint pointed out, "We'll just add it for now until we know more."

"Oh - he had that accent."

"Put that in too," he said, "Just make a quick note by it that he denied that he was actually English, though - just-"

"I've got it!" I protested, "I see what you mean about Stark's tech, though. What else is this good for?"

"Just a second, honey," he said, "We don't know much about _him_, but we do know about where he apparently 'works'. Put the address in..._there_, yeah - and press that button next to-"

The information vanished, and was replaced with a satellite image of the strip mall where we had been this morning. After a moment, I realised that both the clouds and cars in the image were actually moving, and I looked up to see Clint smiling devilishly.

"Live satellite imagery. Pretty neat, right?" he said, in "Just try twisting your hands like...yeah - you see how it zooms in? Not only can you follow people in real time, you can even get close enough to see what they're reading."

"That seems a little creepy," I pointed out, "You mean Stark could have been watching us all this time?"

"I wouldn't worry; Tony was too busy being a playboy billionaire to waste his time watching footage, and too possessive of his toys to let anyone else do it instead," he shook his head, and continued, "Almost nobody knows about these. Anyway, can you rewind? Just spin your finger in the air...yeah, like that."

I followed suit, and watched the clouds and cars suddenly stop and reverse direction, "Just how far back can we go?"

"Oh, about ten years," Clint said, and I felt a lurch deep inside, "I mean, there might not always be a satellite where you're looking, but…oh- stop; there we are."

I watched with amusement as our car pulled into the car park, and Clint and I got out and ran swiftly towards the large warehouse.

"How silly do we look there?" I snorted, "Totally unnecessary, too."

"Better to be safe than sorry," my husband said, quite seriously, "Who knows who could've been there?"

"Actually, look-" I hit the pause button, "It looks like there _was_ someone there. Up there, on the roof!"

I pointed at what, when paused, appeared to be a nondescript shadow on the roof. Clint looked dubious.

"Are you sure?" he said, "I mean, I was _watching_ the rooftops. I should have-"

"Hold on," I said, and pressed play again. We both watched silently as the shadow rolled over and got to its feet. Although it stayed well away from the edge of warehouse roof, it nonetheless tracked us perfectly as we walked around the side of the building, and then picked its way carefully across the corrugated metal and lay down by one of the many holes just as Clint forced his way in at ground level.

"Stop," Clint said, and then repeated himself more loudly, "Stop!"

"I am, I am!" I said.

"Zoom in on that figure," he said, his expression suddenly very serious indeed. I did so. As the image expanded, it became clear from her figure that our watcher was a woman, with rich dark skin and hair that might be best described as 'big'. She was clearly dressed for action, and slung across her back was a long, smooth, matte black rifle with a scope and a heavy stock.

"There _was_ a sniper," he breathed, "I _knew_ something felt wrong."

"Yeah, but why didn't she react when we kicked in the door? You had the therapist at bow point!"

"Well, let's watch a little more-" he said, and I started the video once again. Down in the warehouse I could just about see Clint and I walking up the stairs, and _then _the woman unslung her rifle and settled into a firing position. I felt a chill go down my spine as she braced, her hand shifted towards the trigger-  
-and then she cocked her head, as if she had heard something. A moment later, she released her grip on the trigger, tapped something on the side of the rifle and slung it back across her back. Leaping to her feet, she moved quickly across the roof and vaulted smoothly down a rusty access ladder. In a flash, she was out of view.

"I wonder what she heard," I said, "She clearly heard something."

"It must have been something Thera said," Clint said, "I told you that it was an act."

"I think you were right on two counts; he clearly isn't up to any good," I said, "What do we do?"

"What do we do?" my husband blinked, "We call Fury, or one of the Avengers. This isn't what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I was worried that he could be an information broker, or a blackmailer, or...I didn't actually expect there to be a sniper!" he said, his voice suddenly loud, "We were _this_ close to getting shot. _You_ were this close-"

"_Uh oh; better head this one off quickly, Laura."_

"Hold on, Clint. We can't give up now!" I said, "Look; maybe he deals with a lot of rough customers. He might have-"

"If you want people to behave, you get big, angry looking men and have them stand around you," he said, "You hire a sniper if you want to kill someone."

"Yeah, but heavies aren't exactly great for a therapeutic atmosphere," I pointed out, "And he clearly _didn't_ want to kill us. Isn't that a point in his favour?"

"This is serious, babe," he said, and sat down heavily, "If we keep going with this, I'll be putting you in danger."

"This man knows about us and our family, Clint!" I said urgently, "I could already _be _in danger!"

"But that's no reason to put you in _more_ danger!" he said, "I can-"

"Go and put _yourself _in danger?" I said sharply, "Is that okay? This is how I feel _every _time you go off on a mission, Clint!"

"But I always come back!" he protested, "You...didn't."

Once again there was that sudden spike of anger, but with a deep breath I forced it back down and stepped quietly around the device to put my hand on Clint's cheek.

"I know you're scared, honey," I said softly, "But please believe in me. You said I had more bravery and resourcefulness than half the Avengers, didn't you?"

"I can't lose you again," he choked, "I can't go back to how it was."

"And I can't lose you," I continued gently, "But that's not going to happen. So I'll ask again, what are we going to do?"

Clint took a moment to compose himself, and then said, "We're going to watch the rest of this footage just to see if anyone else turns up."

"And if they don't?"

"Then we're right; he's lying through his teeth about being a therapist - and has singled us out as a target."

We watched the rest of the footage in fast-forward. There were no visitors that day, and by the time we reached 'now' my husband's face was set with grim determination.

"Okay, this place will have a phone line," he said in a business-like tone, "and he must be using a short-range transmitter to communicate with that woman on the roof. What we need to do is get back there and tap both of them so that we know what he, or _they _are planning."

"So how do we tap a phone line?"

"Well…" he began evasively, "I've done it a couple of times in the past. I can get the parts from any electronics store, and I'm pretty we have everything else we need here to put it together."

"And the transmitter?"

Clint patted the black sphere, "This can handle that, as long as we get it in range. If we park the car close enough, I don't reckon there'll be a problem."

"Okay," I said, "That seems like the beginnings of a plan. Now let's get this thing away before the kids get home."

* * *

Moving quickly, Clint and I put the lid back on the suitcase and hefted it back upstairs to our bedroom, where it was sequestered away under the bed. Ever since my husband had mentioned how far back the recordings went, a dark little thought had embedded itself in my mind, and as hard as I tried to squash it I knew that it was only going to grow with time.

"_Trust me, Laura. You don't want to go down that path. I'm not sure you're ready yet."_

Just as we finished sliding the box under the bed, I heard the sound of the bus pulling down the road, and then the doors hissed open. Watching from the upstairs window, my heart sank as a clearly despondent Lila stepped down from the bus, followed by Cooper. Gently, he took his sister's hand and led her across the drive towards the front door. In a flash, I shot down stairs, taking the steps two at a time and as the front door opened I rushed forwards and swept my weeping daughter into a long, loving embrace.

"It was Maisie," Cooper said, quietly.

"Oh, _darling_," I said gently, holding her as she cried into my chest, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, _so_ sorry."

Slowly, and with some coaxing, Clint and I managed to bring Lila into the kitchen and calmed her down over some milk and chocolate chip cookies.

"M-m-m-maisie...she didn't blip, mom. She didn't blip," she gasped, "She's _old_."

"I know, sweetie," I said, and sighed, "I'm really sorry."

"Sh-she screamed at me, mommy," Lila went on, "She called me a g-g-ghost, and a 'blipper'...and sh-she told me that she _hates_ me!"

"I saw it happen," Cooper nodded, "Some people took videos."

"They _what_?" I gave Cooper a hard look, and he shrugged apologetically.

"What was I meant to do? Break all their phones? I just got Lila out of there as fast as I could."

"That was good of you, Coop," Clint said, "And very brave."

"_Am_ I a ghost, mom?" Lila said suddenly, in a small voice, "I mean, I know we all got turned to dust-"

"No!" I said, possibly more angrily than I meant to, "You are _not_ a ghost!"

"But some of the _other_ kids said that everyone who blipped were just going to crumble away again. They said that they don't want to be our friends 'cause we won't be around long enough to matter."

"The Barton Blippers, they called us," Cooper spoke up.

"Does the school know about this?" Clint said to Cooper, who nodded, "Good. That saves me from going down there and busting some heads. Still..."

"Whoa, hold on," I said, "Nobody's going to be busting anyone's heads."

"So, what," he said, "Are we just going to let this go? She called Lila a _ghost_!"

"No, we won't just let this go," I said, and took a deep breath, "Kids; can you go to the other room for a moment? Dad and I need to talk."

"Are you going to fight again?" Cooper said warily, and I felt a slight twist of guilt deep inside.

"No, kiddo," I smiled, "We're going to _talk_, like grownups should. Go and look after Lila; we'll be through in just a second."

* * *

After they left I sat back down across from Clint, who was drumming his fingers anxiously on the table.

"You know, I used to _dream_ of just having problems like this," he said, with a wry little smile, "School problems, problems with boyfriends and girlfriends, the kids phoning from college…" he trailed off, and I took his hand, "And then of course, I'd wake up and realise you were all gone."

"_Okay, this time, just keep your big mouth shut and _listen_."_

"I reckon that the whole world was probably dreaming the same thing; that everything could've gone back to how it was before Thanos…well," he snapped his fingers, "Now? Here we are; we've had our deepest wish realised and are we grateful? Are we hell. We've got protests in the streets, other children calling our kids names…"

"It's not that simple," I said, and took his hand, "You were right, and the therapist was right; just because we're back doesn't mean that you didn't spent five years without us. That goes for you, that goes for Maisie, and it goes for half the world. Trouble is, those of us who _have_ been...away aren't making it any better."

"What do you mean?"

"At first, I tried to pretend that I was never gone," I said, bluntly, "Because to me I _was_ never gone. So...I helped you put the house back in order, kept my head down, and just enjoyed the extra attention you were giving me. I mean, I'm pretty sure I was in shock-"

"_Oh my, yes," _added my brain.

"-but I was also being cruel and insensitive to you. Maisie _loved_ Lila, Clint," I said, and smiled a little wistfully, "She used to be around all the time, thanks to that _mother_ of hers. She could easily have spent the last five years alone, and then to have Lila just bounce up to her, not a day older, and say 'hi' like nothing had happened? I wonder if I would have reacted any differently."

"So…"

"So I think we need to do what Thera was suggesting. Lila and Maisie are kind of going through what we're going through, only at their age five years makes all the difference. We can't just let Maisie take her anger out on Lila, but Lila is going to need to realise that the world has changed. Cooper, too."

"I'll talk to them while you go get Nate," he said, "It'll mean more coming from me, I think."

"Good idea," I nodded in agreement, "It might also be a good idea to tell them what I just told you - you know, about how I've been acting. It might stop Cooper worrying about our fights."

"Tell it from both sides, yeah," Clint said, "Okay. I'll do that."

"Good," I said and then frowned, "That just leaves all those other kids. What are we going to do about our family being labelled as the 'Barton Blippers'? I don't like that."

"We'll have to see how it plays out," Clint said, "Remember; everyone lost someone. You saw the kids on the bus today; they aren't going to stand for things like that for long."

"I suppose not," I said, "On the other hand, maybe we should just _own _it. I think that 'The Barton Blippers' would look good on matching T-shirts, don't you?"

"I suppose," he smirked, but added, "What about me?"

"You're part of this family, aren't you?" I pointed out, and took his other hand in mine, "Besides, it's pretty clear that a part of you blipped with us."

* * *

It was only meant to be a vaguely reassuring, throwaway line, but that observation rattled around inside me as I went to get Nate from school. Something about it _seemed_ significant, but at the same time I was too preoccupied with everything else that was going on to really put my finger on it. Had the world always been this complicated, or was it just me?

"_No; it's not just you. I'm pretty sure the world_ has_ gone crazy. Why wouldn't it?" _my mind said, _"Trouble is, if someone doesn't step up soon I'm pretty sure things are only going to get worse."_

Clint had reserved the right to walk Nate into school in the morning, so I had missed the usual gaggle of parents at the school gate. That may have actually been a good thing, because when I got there the tension was almost palpable. In the middle there was a large group of parents, all smiles and tears as they greeted one another like old friends, but on either side there were two, smaller groups who were regarding the others with a mixture of distrust and anger. As I approached some of the parents gave me a surprisingly baleful look, and then returned to talking amongst themselves.

"_The blipped and the...non-blipped,"_ my mind said warningly,_ "Those groups might look small now, but just give them time. Sooner or later they'll start to demand that people pick a side."_

"That's just stupid," I muttered.

"_Stupidity can be addictive. So can pride. It's not like you've been much better over the last couple of weeks."_

"Yeah, but…" I began, but was shaken out of my reverie by a gentle touch of my arm.

"Laura? Laura Barton?" I recognised the voice, and turned to see a hard-faced, elderly woman standing close behind me. Like so many others, she hadn't aged a day in the last five years.

"Oh, hi Val," I said, attempting to inject some cheerfulness into my voice. Val was a bit of a character; although her children had long since left home, she still viewed the school as her own personal kingdom. She chaired the governors board, ran fetes and fundraisers, and was good enough at it that by and large people left her to it and overlooked her more acerbic qualities.

"This is pretty crazy, right?" she said, quietly, "I'm still having trouble getting my head everything that's happened."

"Yeah," I said, "I think everyone's having trouble."

"You blipped too, right?" Val said, and I sighed internally, "I saw your kid this morning, too, so…"

"We all got taken," I said, "Except my husband."

"I'm very sorry," she replied, "Is he…"

"He's at home with Coop and Lila," I said quickly, "I think he's enjoying learning how to be a father again."

"And a spouse, right?" Val said, and then added, "Five years is a long time to wait for a dead woman. Possibly too long."

"Yeah?" I tried, and failed, to keep a note of anger out of my voice, "Well, he _did_, Val. And I'll thank you not to call me 'a dead woman', too."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, "Many of the parents here would probably kill to have a partner as devoted as yours."

"_That's true,"_ my brain muttered, _"You might not like the language, but she's right. Five years _is_ a long time to wait, particularly when your lost lenore was last seen as a puff of dust."_

Val cut back into my reverie with, "Mine didn't make it."

"Oh, Val," the anger was gone, and pity flooded in in its wake, "I'm so sorry."

"No, no," she shook her head, "The doctors only gave him six months. I just didn't expect that six months to last four days. I mean, hah-" she snorted, "-if I hadn't blipped I probably wouldn't be here in 2023 either, but I just... wish I could have been there for him."

_That_ hit me in the gut. It hit me in the gut far harder than it should have done, and once again there was that twisting, red hot feeling of anger sinking deep into my bones. All of a sudden I felt the urge to scream, or cry, or do _anything_ to get it out of my system.

"_Be patient, and be forgiving," _my mind reminded me, _"Count to four, inhale…"_

With a long, deep breath, I looked skywards and slowly uncurled my hands. I hadn't even realised I'd clenched them.

"Are you okay, Laura?" Val said, "You-"

"Val!" another, far harsher voice interrupted. From the group I had mentally termed the 'non-blippies', two parents detached and came striding over.

"_Oh great, it's Liv and Paul,"_ my mind supplied helpfully. From what little gossip reached my ears, I knew that Liv and Paul (the brains, and the simpering second) had been jockeying for Val's position for the past two years. For the most part they had been hamstrung for two reasons; firstly, people were (fairly) happy with Val's reign, and secondly, Liv had almost no redeeming qualities at all.

"Val, I thought we told you that your services were no longer required," Liv said. Suddenly, the elderly woman seemed a whole lot smaller, and looked to me for support, "But-"

"But what? Do you _really_ think that you can just pop out of the woodwork after five years and start telling us how to do things? This is _our_ school now, Val."

"Hey!" I said, interceding, "Now just hold on a minute."

"What, are you going to start telling us how to do things as well, Barton?" Liv's eyes narrowed and she added quietly, "Did you come up with some good ideas during that dirt nap of yours?"

"_Be patient, and be forgiving!" _my mind said, as raw, toe-curling rage flared anew, "_Be patient, and be _forgiving_!"_

"No, Liv," I said, through gritted teeth, "But Val's husband is dead! If she's off the committees then what is she meant to do all day? This school is her life!"

"Then she should have thought about that before she _died_, and left us to pick up all the pieces," Liv retorted, "_We_ built this school back up from nothing. _We_ managed to keep everything together while everyone was falling apart - ah, no offence," she smirked nastily, "-but we will _not_ have this batty old Blippie march back in and undo everything we have just so you can run a Care in the Community center!"

"_Bepatientandbeforgivingbe- oh, screw it. Just sock her one, will you?"_

"So you're just going to run her out of the school, are you?" I asked, my voice trembling with barely repressed rage, "Just for the sake of your egos?"

"She isn't _part_ of this school, Barton. Not anymore," Liv snarled, "She's a freaking _ghost!"_

That was it. Finally pushed beyond breaking, I felt the anger deep inside explode into a white hot sun, and before I really knew what I was doing I had punched Liv right in her smug, smartly made up mouth. My hand exploded in agony, but before she had a chance to recover I stepped forward and jabbed her again, this time hard on the nose.

"Whoa!" Paul stepped between us before I could line up a third shot, "What's gotten into you, Laura?"

"Call her a ghost again, Liv!" I screamed, struggling against Paul's restraint, "I dare you! Call her a ghost one more _fucking_ time and I'll _fucking _end you!"

"You hit me!" Liv said. Blood was flooding out of her nose, "That hurt!"

"Oh, that _hurt_, did it?" I snarled, "What did it hurt like? Did it hurt like being vaporised? Did it hurt like losing one of your best friends? Or did it hurt like- oh, get the hell _off_ me, Paul!"

With what seemed like surprisingly little effort, I grabbed Paul by the face and shoved him down to the ground before advancing once again on the suddenly terrified Liv.

"Wh-what's gotten into you, Laura?" she said, backing away as fast as her high heels would let her, "This isn't like you."

"I don't know," I growled, "Maybe I'm in a bad mood after a five year 'dirt nap', or-"

"Mommy?" a little voice called from beyond the gate, "Mommy, is that you?"

Nate's voice was like a bucket of cold water in the face. Suddenly shocked back to reality, I looked at the shaking, whimpering woman in front of me, clutching at her nose, and realised just how close I'd come to beating her to a bloody pulp.

"I…" I began, and slowly backed away. I could feel the stares of the other parents on my back, but I ignored them as I turned towards Nate, "Honey?"

My youngest son's stare tore at my heart, as did the _deeply _disapproving expression of the teacher standing immediately behind him.

"Mrs Barton," she said icily, "I will speak with you after all the other parents have left. I will _not-"_

Her gaze flickered towards Liv, and with a start I turned just in time to see a fist, covered in jewelry, rocketing towards my face.

And then I saw stars.

* * *

"You know, I distinctly remember someone saying that 'nobody's going to be busting anyone's heads," Clint said later, with some amusement, "And hold still while I put this dressing on."

"Just...please be quiet," I said. I had a splitting headache, and my bag of frozen peas wasn't doing much for the pain, "Who would've known that Liv can throw a punch? Or that those rings would hurt so much!"

"Well, it's obvious _you_ can't," said my husband, "If you'd listened to me about those self-defence classes, maybe you wouldn't have busted up your hand so much. What _happened?_"

I smiled weakly, "It turns out I really don't like Liv."

"You really didn't like her before," Clint said, "I don't ever recall you trying to break her nose, though. Are you okay?"

"No...no, not really," I admitted, "Ever since I came back, I've had this...anger that I've never had before. I mean, you saw it before we went to see the therapist."

Clint nodded.

"After that, I thought that maybe I could learn to keep it under control. When Liv called Val a 'ghost', though, all I could think about was Lila and Maisie, and I _completely _lost it."

"So I hear," my husband said, and then added by way of explanation, "You're an internet sensation, according to Cooper. You're 'trending'."

"Oh _gods_," I groaned, "And Nate saw me fighting too. I'm setting a terrible example for the kids."

"Yeah, you are," Clint agreed, "But you know what? I'm also kind of proud of you. You stood up for Val when all those other parents were just kind of shying away."

"I'm not sure I would've done that before," I admitted, and added, "Do you think I've changed, Clint? I...feel like something's different about me."

"It's not you," Clint said reassuringly, "It's this whole situation. It's just going to take a while for everyone to adjust."

"Well, I'm afraid that you'll have to pick up Nate for a little while," I said, and smiled apologetically, "Even if Liv doesn't press charges I think I've been banned from the school grounds for the rest of the term. Still, it could be worse; I could be Liv."

"What happened to Liv?"

"Nothing," I said, and laughed, "I just meant I could _be_ her."

Clint thought about that for a moment, and then chuckled quietly as he finished up on my hand, "There. It's not perfect, but it'll do. Proper battlefield medicine for my partner in crime, after her first real mission."

"Hah, don't make me laugh," I said weakly, and then leaned over to put my head on his shoulder, "Thank you, Clint."

"You're welcome."

"No - I mean, thank you for not giving up on me," I said, "Something Val said made me think about how lucky I am. Five years is a _long_ time, and...you waited. I can't imagine what that must have been like for you, and I'm sorry I said I did."

"Well, it was worth it in the end, wasn't it?" Clint said, and ruffled my hair gently.

"Easy!" I said, but smiled regardless, "I think I'm still concussed. Maybe when my headache goes away, I can think of some way to, ah, share that luck with you? You, um, you don't happen to have those commando leathers you were talking about around anywhere, do you?"

My husband looked momentarily surprised, but then his expression turned distinctly mischievous, "You know, I believe I might."

"Good," I said, "Go and find them, then. That's an order, soldier!"

As Clint leapt to his feet, my phone buzzed noisily in my pocket. Carefully, and without dislodging my frozen peas, I pulled it out to check the front screen. It read:

'_MRS. BARTON:_

_Your followup counselling session is booked for next Monday at 11:00am. We look forward to seeing you there!'_

I paused, smiled, and then put it back in my pocket. That was next Monday, and we had an entire week to prepare for whatever Thera was planning. Right now, all I wanted was an evening with my husband, a nice duvet, and a roaring fireplace.

And, of course, his commando leathers.


	5. Chapter 5: A Lion at the Door

**Chapter Five: A Lion at the Door**

Over the next week, our lives seemed to return to a semblance of routine. In the morning, we would see Coop and Lila off on the bus, drop Nate at his school, and then return to work out how we would find out what Thera was planning. Part of that involved getting the parts necessary to build a 'beige box', as Clint described it, while the rest of our time was spent monitoring the warehouse and any traffic using Stark's satellite system. For the most part, there was almost no visible activity at the site aside from the occasional delivery van and a single truck, and we saw nobody else coming or going. From time to time, and apparently without rhyme or reason, we saw the female sniper camping out with her rifle. Sometimes she was obviously scanning the surroundings, other times she was sunbathing or reading. On one occasion, I was pretty sure I saw her sketching.

As the week drew on, the dark little thought I had about using Stark's surveillance grew, as I feared it would. I hadn't yet worked up the nerve to watch any of the footage surrounding 'The Snap', but the idea that there could possibly be coverage of my _own_ disappearance kept on eating away at me. No matter how hard I tried to suppress it it just sat there, smugly, on the edge of my consciousness, and waited for me to inevitably break and give in. I wanted to ask Clint about it, but at the same time the thought of asking him to relive that terrible day was so horrible that I just didn't dare, and yet again I felt the silences in our evenings together become just that little bit awkward.

Eventually Sunday night rolled around, and the kids were in bed ready for yet another fun-packed week of 'Blip school'. Clint had dragged out the device for a final review of our plan, and had pulled up an image of the strip mall as he went over what we had agreed.

"Okay, here's what we know; " he said, and highlighted Thera's warehouse with a wave of his glove, "We have 'Thera' somewhere in this building. We know he doesn't have a car, and we haven't seen him enter or leave by the side door. That suggests that he's going out another exit, probably one covered by those trees-" he indicated the forest just behind the warehouse, "-where we can't see. We don't really know anything about him; we don't know what he wants, what his capabilities are, or who he's working for, if anyone."

"Hence the wire tapping," I pointed out, and Clint nodded.

"There's just one problem," he said, and indicated the warehouse roof, "Our friendly neighbourhood sniper. All we know is that she's black, has an afro, and when she isn't looking shoot someone she likes to read and draw. She's pretty clearly there as a bodyguard for Thera, but her movements are so random it's difficult to tell what she's guarding him _against_. It also means that the safest time to actually tap the lines would be when someone already has her attention."

"By which you mean me," I said, and nodded at the carpark, "You think if I turn up for the appointment then she'll follow me? She might not think I'm a threat."

"I doubt she's that careless," he said, "When you arrive there'll probably be a short window when she's following you that I can move in and get to work. If you just say I'm running late and got a taxi instead...well, hopefully that should keep either of them from getting suspicious enough to check the perimeter."

"I'll keep him occupied," I promised.

"Good," Clint said, "If you see an angle to get him out of the office, do so. It might give you a chance to snoop around and see if there's anything incriminating there as well. Once I've tapped the line, he won't be able to use either the landline or a short range transmitter without us knowing about it. After that, maybe we'll find out exactly _what's _going on."

* * *

I was too excited to sleep well that night, and as soon as the sun poked its head over the trees I was up and downstairs. By the time the kids stumbled down, rubbing blearily at their eyes, the breakfast table was set and ready.

"Come on, kids!" I said, buzzing around impatiently as they took their places and slowly began shovelling food into their mouths, "The bus will be here soon!"

"The bus won't be here for another ten minutes, mom," Cooper said, and yawned, "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing!" I said quickly, "Why? Why do you think something's gotten into me?"

"Whatever, mom," Cooper sighed, "Maybe you should switch to decaf, like Dad?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Coop," Clint said, as he clumped heavily down the stairs, "Maybe you should stop drinking all that soda, too."

"Aw, a bit of soda isn't going to kill me, Dad," Cooper said, and then added, "Besides, I've already died once."

There was a _'crunch'_ as I reflexively crushed the toast I had been buttering, and I suddenly found myself the attention of the entire table.

"Sorry," I smiled weakly, and reached for another piece of toast, "Too much caffeine, I guess. So; you gonna have fun at school?"

"I guess," Cooper shrugged, "We've been going over what's been happening these past five years. It's pretty wild, you know."  
"We've been watching interviews with some of the Avengers!" Lila said excitedly, "Did you know that Doctor Strange looked at fourteen million timelines, and this is the only timeline where we won? He said there's loads of other ones! There's ones where the Avengers couldn't bring us back, or where they brought us back and then someone accidentally blew up the Earth, or where they brought us back and then Thanos destroyed the entire universe!"

"No, I didn't know that," I said, and sat back, "That's...wow."

"I'd imagine that Strange is off a lot of peoples' Christmas card lists," Clint growled, "If he said that the Blip would last five years then it would've been a lot easier on everyone."

"Oh, oh, he said that if he told anyone then we would lose for sure!" Lila continued, "He couldn't even tell Tony Stark what he would have to do, even though..."

"Why didn't you give an interview, Dad?" Cooper said suddenly, "I mean, you were there. You did as much as anyone!"

"Well, I don't know about that…" for a moment, Clint looked adorably abashed, "Besides, your mother and I moved down here to get _away_ from the cameras."

"But-"

"But nothing," Clint said firmly, "I didn't join the Avengers for the publicity. I joined them to stop some very bad people, and the last thing I want is for those people to start following me home. That's why we ask you kids not to talk about me at school."

"Why don't you wear a mask, like Spiderman?" Cooper said.

"Sometimes I do," Clint said, after a moment's pause, "But nobody's made a mask yet that doesn't interfere with my work _somehow_. Normally I'd just rather go without."

"I reckon you'd still be great with a mask on, daddy," Lila said, and Clint ruffled her hair.

"Of course I would, honey," he said, and then inclined his head, "Alright kids - hurry up. I think I hear the bus coming!"

After seeing Coop and Lila off on the bus, we quickly dropped off Nate and returned for our equipment. After packing everything in the car, Clint went back inside for a moment and re-emerged, carrying his bow and a curiously familiar sword.

"Do you really think you'll need those?" I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Best to be prepared," he replied, "Until we know more about this pair I'm not taking any chances."

"Don't you think Thera's going to be a little suspicious, though?"

"Why? Somehow he already knows _who_ I am, and he's already seen the bow. If he gets picky about the sword...well," he smiled, "I'm just being protective of my recently returned wife. Which I suppose I am, actually."

"I can't decide if that's sweet or a little disturbing," I said, after a moment's thought, "But get in! We've got a lot to do."

* * *

As agreed, I dropped Clint off a short distance from the strip mall in a copse that offered good cover for his approach. Moving quickly, he retrieved his equipment and weaponry from the back of the car before coming back around to the driver's side window.

"Now remember, just act natural, From what we've seen that sniper isn't just going to start shooting at you, so you won't have anything to worry about. Just shoot me a text when you're about to go in, and I'll make my move."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"I love you," he smirked, and kissed me hard before moving quickly into the undergrowth. I watched him go, and there was a satisfied sigh from somewhere deep inside.

"Quiet, you," I muttered, "We've got a job to do."

Now that I was actually _here_, the thought of possibly walking into a sniper's crosshairs seemed much less appealing, and my heart was beating as I drove into the enormous, empty car park and parked up as close as I could to Thera's warehouse.

"_Okay,"_ my mind said, _"Just be casual. Try not to walk like you're in the sights of a sniper, because one false move…"_

"Enough," I muttered, and slowly climbed out of the car. It took a herculean effort not to look up at the warehouse roof, but what would have been the point? Clint was far more experienced at this than I, and he hadn't seen anything. Instead, I took a deep breath, and tried to walk as calmly as I could past the stenciled graffiti towards the little door around the side.

"_I think you might have confused 'casual' with 'marionette with her strings cut'."_

"This isn't easy!" I protested, "She could be watching us right now!"

"_I thought the point was that she _was_ watching us _right now_. We should've taken that sword from Clint - that definitely would have gotten her attention."_

"It could also have gotten us shot."

"_Fair point - although she didn't shoot Clint even when he was waving a bow in Thera's face. What's the chances of her shooting a small woman holding a sword she clearly doesn't know how to use?"_

"Then why bring the sword at all?" I muttered, and pulled out my phone to send Clint the vital text, "All I'd have to do is explain it to Thera, and...I'm not sure he'd really go for it."

"_I suppose. Better get your head together, Laura. Remember; it's always the little details that catch out a lie."_

Even though I was lost in my thoughts, I could tell that over the past week someone had made a serious effort to tidy up the warehouse. For a start, all the breadcrumbs were gone, and the stairs up to the little office had been given a fresh coat of paint. More surprising, though, was the door; where there was previously a flimsy looking piece of MDF, there was now a solid oak-panelled affair with a simple, metal sign that said 'Therapist' at about eye level. Beneath that was tacked a piece of paper that read:

'_Please knock before opening. This means _you_, Barton.'_

I chuckled, and then rapped lightly on the door.

"Come in!" came Thera's voice, and I carefully pushed open the door.

"It's just me," I began apologetically, "Clint's running late and oh-"

Whatever Thera had done to the warehouse, he had clearly saved the best for his office. Gone were the fold-out chairs and the simple table, replaced with a comfortable-looking sofa and high-backed office chair arranged at a slight angle to each other. Along one wall was a low cabinet, on which rested several pictures, a chess set, and a small statuette of what looked like Lady Justice, while on the other was a large television that was currently showing a looping video of a burning fireplace. As I stepped forward into the room, I felt the thick carpet give way under my boots and I half tripped, half-fell onto the back of the sofa, knocking the wind out of myself in the process.

"My word - are you okay?" Thera said, coming to his feet. He was still wearing a predominantly grey outfit, although the horrible yellow beanie had been replaced with a bright pink affair that, it had to be said, wasn't much better. Today, his contacts were a slightly disconcerting golden yellow colour, which put me in mind of a wolf, or possibly some kind of owl.

"You...you redecorated," I gasped, and pushed myself up to a standing position. Thera extended his hand, but I waved it aside and came round to sit on the sofa, "Just give me a second…"

"Yeah, sure," he said, but gave me a hard look, "That's a pretty impressive shiner, Laura. 'Care to tell me where you got it?"

"It wasn't Clint, if that's what you're thinking," I said quickly.

"I wasn't," he replied, "Not unless he's suddenly taking to wearing a ton of jewelry. I can even see the ring imprints."

"It's much better than it was!" I said defensively, "Clint helped me with the worst of it."

"Is he the one who applied that dressing to your hand, too?" Thera said, with an air of some disapproval, "I have to say, that's...something else."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Almost everything, except the fact that it hasn't fallen off yet," Thera snorted, "I'm guessing you haven't changed it since it was applied, right?"

"No, but...what do you know about all this, exactly? You're a therapist!"

"Oh, that's a fairly recent development," he replied, "My actual background is in emergency medicine."

"You're a doctor?"

"Sort of," Thera shrugged, and gave my hand another dark look, "In a minute I'll go and see what dressings I can rustle up. That's almost painful to look at."

"Clint will be so happy to hear that."

"I'll make sure to tell him to requalify," Thera sat back casually on the seat, "Anyway, where _is_ Clint today? Is he…?"

"Just running late," I said, and sat down on the surprisingly comfortable sofa, "He's getting a taxi here."

"That's good. This is a couples counselling session, not a walk-in center," he snorted, and waved his hand airily, "Well, I'm sure he'll show up when it's narratively convenient. In the meantime, what do you think of the decor?"

"I...I like it," I said, looking around, "It's a lot more homey than before."

"Yeah; sorry about that," he said, and then added, "Actually, I owe you a bit of an apology for last week anyway. I was only given a day's warning that you were even coming, and when _I_ got here I found that it was totally unfurnished. I had to fish all that other furniture out of a skip."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, and scratched at his arm, "The chair you were sitting on? I had to fight a raccoon for it. 'Course, just as I'd got everything in and set up I found a pair of wannabe commandos waving a _bow _in my face, and-"

"Sorry about that," I winced, "We might have gotten a _bit _carried away."

Thera shrugged, "It's okay. I was going to replace the door anyway - and you realise that that's kind of what I wanted you to do anyway, right? Doing something new...connecting?"

"Well, I suppose…" I said, and smiled despite myself, "It _was _pretty exciting."

"And I'm guessing there was quipping...wisecracking...innuendo?" he watched my face with an amused expression, and then smiled at my response, "Yeah, thought so."

"Anyway!" I said quickly, and quickly snatched one of the pictures from the cabinet. It showed a sweeping vista of a mediterranian seaside town, with white buildings and orange rooftops gleaming in the bright summer sun. Off in the distance I could see sparkling, sapphire waves, and small boats with brightly coloured sails bobbed gently in the breeze, "Where's this? It's beautiful."

There was a long, awkward pause. When Thera finally smiled, there was a definite edge of sadness that wasn't there before.

"That's...my home," Thera said, "Or at least where I lived before I took this contract."

"What's it like?"

"Calm," he said, "Peaceful. It could get rowdy come festival time, but it was never _bad_. I remember…" he paused for a moment, and then pressed on, "I used to get up, cycle to the hospital, grab the same sandwich from the same deli at lunch, and just sit on the promenade and watch the boats go by. My fiancee curated at one of the museums during the day, and sometimes in the evenings we'd go meet our mates in a small taverna which is..." he looked at the picture again, "...actually, it's just behind where the person who took this was standing."

"_Fiancee? This guy is _engaged_? Surely he's jok-"_

"Your fiancee?" I said, forcibly silencing the voice in my mind. He nodded, and picked up the other photo. I saw a dark-skinned woman with a shock of messy hair and kind eyes smiling back at me, and my breath caught in my throat.

"_Hold on. The _sniper_ is his fiancee? That was...unexpected."_

"She's...very pretty," I said eventually.

"She's pretty amazing, yeah," he said, and for the first time I saw a genuine smile flash across his face. It was surprisingly warm.

"Must've been difficult to leave them all behind to come here, to a warehouse in Missouri," I said sympathetically, "I almost feel like we should be apologising."

"It's okay," he said, and gave me another calculating look, "Besides, the contract was pretty compelling."

"Really?" I wasn't convinced, "How much are they _paying_ you?"

"_Actually, _why_ are they paying him at all? He doesn't seem all that."_

"It's not really about the money," Thera said, "There were various...perks attached. Besides, I'm sure the sea will still be there when we finish up and go home. There may even be fish in it. Anyway-"

"And you play chess?" I said, trying to play for time, "I see the board."  
"Yeah, with my sister," he said, and grinned, "By post, normally. I mean I'm terrible at it, but it helps us to keep in contact. Well, it did, before-"

"-the contract?"

"Right," he said, and exhaled, "She used to keep saying how much she liked knowing that I was doing exactly what she wanted, and no matter what I tried it was _always _going to end in checkmate. I swear, one of these days I'm going to find out what that feels like. _Anyway _\- enough about me. Here we are, now a whole three weeks after your surprise resurrection. How _are_ things in the world of Laura Barton?"

"Not too bad, actually," I said, and leaned back into the sofa, "Clint and I are in a much better place. He's been opening up to me more about what happened when I was…"

"Dead?" Thera supplied. The tone was helpful enough, but he was clearly surveying me with a careful eye.

"I was going to say _'away'_," but yes. He told me about Natasha's death almost as soon as we left here last week."

"Mmm," he nodded, "We'll leave the matter of Agent Romanov's sacrifice until Clint arrives, but that _is_ a good sign."

"We've been arguing less; a _lot_ less, actually," I corrected myself, "I've been trying to do what you said - you know, 'be patient and forgiving'? I think it headed off a lot of arguments before they started."

"It did?" Thera looked genuinely surprised, but the careful look remained, "That's very interesting - but do go on."

"And we've been doing more things together. It's just…"

"Just…?" Thera's eyebrows went up.

"I feel _angry_," I said, "I mean, it sounds ridiculous considering how lucky I am, but I _am_."

"How are you lucky, exactly?"

"How am I lucky?" I frowned, "I have my life back! I have my kids! My...my husband waited _five years_ for me when there was no reason to think I'd ever be…"

"More than ashes?" Thera said, and I gave him a sharp look, "Its fine. I just wanted to hear you say it. If I was going to play devil's advocate, however, I wouldn't _personally_ call being murdered 'lucky', Laura. While that might have been a temporary affair, you've still _lost_ five years with Clint, and you've been reborn into a very different world than the one you left with a whole bunch of issues that you neither asked for nor deserved."

"Your point being?" I said, perhaps more sharply than I intended. Something about that stung.

"That maybe you have a right to be angry?" he inclined his head, "Being thankful for what you have is great 'n' all, but you can't ignore the fact that so much was taken from you as well. Still, tell me; is this anger constant, or does it come in fits and starts? Does it spike at any point?"

"Well…" I thought about it, and then decided to just be open with him, "It spikes. Most of the time I can keep it under control, thanks to your 'be patient and forgiving', but...I, well, I punched a woman at the school gates last Monday."

"You would be referring to _this..._one second," he fished around in his seat and produced a television remote. With a push of a button, the fireplace was replaced with a paused video. It took me a moment to realise what I was seeing but then with a lurch I realised I was looking at _myself_, my face contorted in a very uncharacteristic expression of rage, and with my fist buried firmly in Liv's smug face.

"Isn't the Internet a great invention?" Thera said, "I have to say, I _was_ kind of surprised when my fiancee showed me this. Still, we watched this one, and then we watched another one where someone put it to music, and then there was one that had boxing commentary...even one that shouted 'WRECKED' after you punched her, although I'm not really sure why. We got literal _hours _of entertainment out of a forty-five second clip, but-" he cast another look at my black eye, "-I see now that she gave as good as she got."

"Oh god," I said, sinking lower in the sofa, "I'm _so _sorry. I totally lost control."

"Yeah, that came across," he said, "But what also came across was the fact that before that, you were trying so very hard to _keep_ control of yourself. I don't believe for a second that that other woman-"

"-Liv-" I murmured, from my position halfway down the sofa.

"Liv didn't see what she was doing to you. She just didn't expect you to lash out."

"She _has_ always been a bit of a bully," I agreed.

"Now, she was talking too quietly for the phone recording to hear what she was saying, but my fiancee is good at lip-reading and she was able to get the gist of it. What was said was...horrible, I'll grant you, but also very interesting."

"What do you mean, 'interesting'?"

"She didn't mince her words. Where most people have been using euphemisms like 'Blip', she referred to you taking a 'dirt nap', declared that Val woman to have 'died' and to be a 'ghost', and _each time_ she did that, you got that little bit more tense," he paused, and then leaned in, "You've been doing exactly the same thing here, too. Every time I've mentioned that you died, you've either deflected, objected, or gotten more angry."

"That's ridiculous, I-" I paused for a moment, and thought back to the toast this morning, "That's...why would I get angry over that?"

"I'm not sure," Thera spread his hands, "Like I said, there's a _lot _of reasons for you to be justifiably angry. The other possibility is that you just don't want to admit that you and your children were murdered in cold blood in front of Clint-"

I took a deep, sudden breath.

"-and I think we've hit home, don't you?" he said, and then added, "Look, I don't want to press you on this now, but I _do_ want you to think about that and maybe we'll talk about it next week. In the meantime, do me a favour and try to avoid assaulting anyone else, will you? It doesn't do my reputation any good."

There was a pause, and then-

"I'm sorry," Thera said suddenly, and got to his feet, "I _really_ can't stare at that dressing any longer. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll just go get my kit, okay?."

* * *

Thera left, muttering something quietly to himself as he did so. After a moment, the door clicked shut and there was the distant, muffled sounds of his feet clumping noisily down the steps.

"_This is it!"_ my mind crowed, _"This is our chance! Who knew that punching Liv in the face would provide such an opening? Quick, Laura - before he comes back!"_

In a flash I was on my feet and scanning the room. There weren't many places to store things in here, so if there _was_ anything incriminating it would probably be quite easy to find. The most obvious place was the drawers in the low cabinet, and so moving quickly I knelt down beside them and pulled one open, carefully. Inside there were a few more pictures of people I didn't recognise, including a pretty young woman who bore a strong familial resemblance to Thera. I looked at them, smiled, and then pushed them to one side.

"_Riddle me this, Laura; why would a doctor agree to a contract that forces them to change profession and move away from all of their friends and family?"_

"Maybe he wanted to try something new?" I murmured, as I gently examined loose sheafs of paper. None of these seemed particularly remarkable; hell, most of them were blank.

"_No. He doesn't want to be here - that's _really_ obvious. He also talked about going home as soon as this contract was over, too. This feels like a one-time, short term affair."_

"That has his fiancee playing overwatch as a sniper?"

"_Clint isn't the only person who's protective, you know. Maybe she followed him here? I wonder; what's the betting that the person who gave him this contract is also the one who made our appointment?"_

"I still don't understand why someone would do that, though. Doesn't make sense."

"_To keep an eye on Clint? If you were planning something in this area and knew that there was an _Avenger_ living nearby, you'd probably want to distract- hold on, what's that?"_

In amongst the papers, my hand bumped against a hard object. Gently, I worked whatever it was free until I came away with a black, ring bound book that had the word 'Phoenix' written on the front in big, white letters.

"_Okay, that's a little creepy."_

"Agreed," I said, and flipped open the book. Inside was page after page of untidy scrawl in what looked vaguely like the Greek alphabet. A little frustrated, I turned over a few more pages until I came to a series of carefully shaded hand-drawn diagrams that were immediately familiar.

"_Oh no."_

Down both sides of the page, three each side, were outlines of North America, with arrows pointing down into South America and overseas. On each one, there was a small red dot sited carefully on Missouri, and with each successive image a progressively larger area was shaded red. By the third image, the arrow leading down to South America was also shaded red, and by the sixth, the entire landmass and associated arrows were fully coloured in. Along the bottom there was a small passage, far tidier than the scrawl that had come before and, surprisingly, was written in English. It read:

'_Using a standard SIR compartmental model (considered suitable for this form of 'viral' transmission) anticipate full coverage of North America will be completed in 6 months, with substantial penetration of adjacent landmasses and overseas regions. Vital to select correct 'Patient Zero' to maximise initial spread.'_

"He's planning a viral attack?" I whispered, "We have to tell Fury. This-"

"_Stop ruminating and get a photo, Laura! Before he comes back!"_

"Oh, right," I said, and quickly whipped out my phone and snapped a shot. Having established that there was nothing else of interest in the book - or at least nothing else that I could read, I carefully eased it back under the papers and had just closed the cabinet door when the door behind me clicked open.

"Sorry about that," Thera said, "I had to dig this bag out of _another_ bag and...are you okay down there?"

"Me?" I said, a little wildly, and grabbed the first thing that I could find, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I was just...looking at this statuette! That's all."

"Oh, please be careful with that!" he said quickly, "It's...not valuable, but it _is_ kind of precious to me."

I looked at it carefully, and tried not to look like I was looking at it for the first time. While my first impression was that it was Lady Justice, I realised after a moment that there were several small differences. While she _was_ wearing a long ribbon as a blindfold, in one hand she carried a shield that was clearly braced to receive an onslaught, while the other was empty but held out in a welcoming, compassionate gesture. Carefully, I set it back down, and felt rather than heard Thera relaxing behind me.

"Come on, sit down," he said briskly, "Let's get that bandage looked at."

"Who is she?" I said, trying to remain casual. Thera looked up from his bag, and then at the statuette.

"She's a goddess of healing and protection; and quite popular where I live," he said eventually, "The shield she carries is meant to represent strength in the face of adversity, while the open hand represents compassion. Her blindfold is there to remind us to be impartial and non judgemental in our work."

"'Us?'" I raised an eyebrow, "I didn't realise you were religious, Thera."

"Oh, I'm not. Although sometimes it feels like I don't get much of a choice...anyway," he produced a new bandage with a flourish, and took a long look at my current dressing, "This might hurt slightly when I take it off, but you'll be fine. Okay? One, two-"

I bit down hard as Thera removed the bandage, revealing cracked skin and a small amount of fresh blood. He gave it a quick look, shook his head, and then quickly applied the new bandage with practiced ease.

"Ripped off the scab," he said, by way of explanation, "Sometimes with those kinds of bandages it ends up just kind of...growing into the fibres. It's why you need to change it more often than _never_."

"Point taken," I said, and held up the new bandage for inspection. It was white, pristine, and almost seemed to glow underneath the fluorescent lamp, "Thank you, Thera."

"No problem," he said, and dropped the old dressing into a small yellow box, "It wouldn't do for your hand to drop off mid session, now would it?"

In the slightly awkward silence that followed, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

"That's probably Clint," I said, grateful for the distraction, "He'll be here soon."

"Good," said Thera.

"I have one last question before he arrives, actually," I said, a little hesitantly, "If you had...footage of yourself during the Snap, would you watch it?"

Thera gave me a long, searching look, "That's a difficult question. I assume we aren't speaking figuratively."

"I'm not completely sure, but...no."

"Okay," he sat back with an intent expression, "I mean, I've _honestly_ never been in a position where someone has asked if it's a good idea to watch a video of their own death."

"What do you think it could do?"

"As with anything around death and dying, it's kind of difficult to say. Some people want to see the corpse of their loved ones, others really _don't_. Some want open casket funerals, but then there are others who would be traumatised by the very prospect. It's going to vary from person to person."

"So…"

"You may be totally unaffected by it, or it may crush you. In your case, I'm maybe a _little _worried because you don't seem to want to face up to the truth of the matter, but then...maybe _seeing _it will give you some perspective," he spread his arms helplessly, "I just don't know - but I suspect the question is largely academic. We both know that you're going to watch it at some point, so...just be ready for whatever feelings it might dredge up inside you."

"That's not entirely helpful," I said, tartly.

"I never promised to be _entirely_ helpful," he smiled wryly, "If you want surety, go talk to a priest. All _I_ can do is promise to listen, for as long as you need to talk about it."

* * *

There was a heavy knock at the door, and a moment later the door swung open and Clint stepped in. He paused for a moment, and surveyed his surroundings with a wary eye.

"You've...redecorated," he said, eventually.

"And _you've_ escalated," Thera responded, in a suddenly chilly tone, "I see you've brought your emotional support bow, but a _sword?_ What's up next week; hand grenades?"

"Well-"

"I'll be honest; it also _kind_ of worries me that Laura tells me that you've been 'running late' and then you turn up _quite literally_ dressed to kill," Thera paused, and then added, "You aren't having a... relapse, are you?"

"No!" Clint said, much more forcefully than I expected, "I'm just worried for my wife's safety!"

"Uh-huh," clearly, Thera wasn't buying it, "Hence the sword."

"Yeah."

"The bladed, melee weapon."

"I suppose."

"And you selected that weapon to protect your wife despite arriving here at different times and using different vehicles?" the therapist leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm...well, you know what? I don't really care. We both know you're talking bollocks, and right now I guess the greatest mercy is that it's not currently dripping blood over my nice new carpet. Just chuck it and the bow in that umbrella stand and come sit down."

Clint did so, and gave me a roguish wink in the process. I winked back, but wasn't entirely sure that I'd managed to achieve the same level of easy charm.

"Before we begin, can I get either of you anything to drink?" Thera offered, "I'm sorry I didn't offer earlier, but I've got water, coffee, tea...well, if you like Lapsang Souchong. It's a bit like drinking a bonfire, but it turns out some people are into that."

"I'm okay," I said, and settled back against Clint.

"Me too," he nodded.

"...okay," Thera shrugged, and then smiled broadly, "Firstly, I have to say that I'm loving this body language - it's a big improvement over last week. Do you feel like there's been a big improvement over the last week, Clint?"

"Oh, I...um," Clint paused to think about it, and then said, "Actually, yeah. When I think about it, it's been much nicer at home. There's been a couple of issues, mostly with the kids, but...yeah."

"Mmm," Thera nodded, "I was asking Laura the same thing earlier, and I have to say I'm surprised - pleasantly surprised, I should add," he added quickly, "But let's...just stay the course, shall we? This is week three, after all; its early days yet."

"I suppose."

"Now, Clint - I've already talked to Laura about her feelings of anger, but I think I'd like to talk to you about grief. Perhaps... you can tell me a bit about how you felt after your family was murdered."

Beside me, I felt Clint suddenly tense up, and I held his hand gently in reassurance.

"It's okay," I said quietly, "I'm right here."

"How do you think I felt?" Clint burst out.

"Well, I was kind of hoping you would tell me," Thera said, apparently entirely unperturbed by the response, "My telepathy is on the fritz."

"Well, how did _you_ feel?"

"You assume I was in a position to _feel _anything," he raised an eyebrow, "And as I said last week, this isn't about me."

"_Hold on - is he saying that he Blipped?" _my mind said, _"He _really _stuck the landing if he did. Except...that timeline doesn't really add up..."_

"Look, I understand that this is a difficult subject, Clint," Thera went on, in a rather more gentle tone, "But it's also an _important_ subject - for both of you. So please..."

Clint took a deep breath, and then said, "Shock. For a long time, maybe a year, I didn't feel _anything_ \- like the part of me that could feel anything had just gone. So... I just drifted, helping where I could, I guess. A lot of people had others who needed them, or took in people but I didn't have anyone left to worry about, so I was free to go wherever I wanted. A pretty sick kind of freedom, if you think about it."

"And your friends…?"

"I didn't talk to them. I didn't _want_ to talk to them. I just wanted to be left alone."

"Mmm," Thera nodded, "Some people find that having a funeral, or a memorial-"

"I didn't," Clint cut in, and then added, "I _couldn't_. I just couldn't face it - face the fact that they were gone. It felt better just to drift aimlessly then face the prospect of having to...I don't know; rebuild my life?"

"I know," said the therapist, quietly, "It's okay."

"And then I got _angry_," my husband said, "I was just furious, all the time. The worst times were when I got angry at Laura and the children. I went through a period where I just _hated_ them for abandoning me. I used to wish so hard that I'd never met Laura, or that we'd never had kids, just so they couldn't be taken away from me. Then I'd feel guilty for getting angry at them, and how I didn't protect them from Thanos. Then I'd get angry again, except _now _I was angry at the Avengers for not getting me involved. After three years of that, I was just...anger and guilt, looking for release."

Thera paused, and took a deep breath, "Did you ever consider taking your own life?"

"No. Or at least I don't think so," Clint said, "But honestly, I wouldn't have minded. After five years I was taking on bigger and bigger challenges, getting more and more reckless...if Natasha hadn't found me in Tokyo, I probably wouldn't have lasted much longer."

There was a long, long silence, and then the therapist bent over and retrieved a box of tissues from his bag. Without saying a word, he took a tissue for himself and then handed the box over to Clint.

"Thank you, Clint," he said, a little distantly, "That can't have been easy for you. Was that the first time you've…"

"Yeah," he said.

"That was brave. Hopefully you and Laura can spend some more time talking about that between now and the next session. Right Laura?"

"I…" I began. My mouth was suddenly dry, and I felt a dull, aching sensation in my chest. My fingers were wrapped around Clint's so hard that they _burned_, but I just couldn't bring myself to let go, "I didn't...oh, _honey_. No wonder you couldn't talk about it."

"It's not easy," Thera said quietly, "But it _is_ vital."

"I know," I nodded, and grabbed one of the tissues, "I'm sorry; last week I was complaining about how we weren't enough for him, and now…"

"Puts it in perspective, right?" the therapist gave me an appraising look.

"I feel so selfish," I said eventually, "To think; I've been worrying about getting the house back in order or getting the kids to go to school! I just wish I could have been there for you, Clint. Or that you could have buried us and moved on somehow."

"I couldn't," Clint said, his voice thick with emotion, "I just _couldn't_."

"I know, darling," I said, "But if you couldn't bring us back - if we stayed Blipped, how long would you spend mourning us? Ten years? Twenty years?"

My husband fell silent, but his jaw was working furiously. I reached out tenderly and took his face in both hands.

"I'm sorry, honey; that wasn't a fair question," I said, and kissed him on the forehead, "But it's okay. It's all going to be okay."

* * *

We stayed like that for a little while, ignorant to the outside world until Thera coughed politely. Suddenly, I realised where I was and disengaged hurriedly, muttering 'sorry' as I did so.

"Oh, don't be," the therapist held up both hands, "I mean, seriously; my key objective is to help people to reconnect despite their different experiences. Do you _really_ think I'd be annoyed by this?"

"Well-"

"In any case, Laura. I'm sure you appreciate _now_ what I meant when I said that three weeks of you being extant does not erase five years of pain, and it was never going to."

I nodded, glumly, "I know. I just wish there was something I could do. Something I could…"

"Say?" Thera finished my sentence, "Well, if you ever hit on that magic phrase, look me up and we'll go into business together. We'll make billions, I'm sure."

"Well, what _should_ I do, then?" I gave him a sharp look.

Thera appeared to consider this for a moment, and then nodded slowly, "Okay. Let me tell you what I've learned from a decade or so of medicine. Obviously, my job was to _fix_ people - and I was good at it. Gunshots, cancer, heart disease, you name it; the team I was in got good results. But...sometimes things don't go to plan; people are just too ill, or they don't respond to treatment, or they're too old to survive surgery. The children were the worst, but everybody dies at some point…"

He trailed off, as if not entirely sure how to continue. I gave Clint a quick look, and was surprised to see him regarding Thera with a look of mild concern. When the therapist continued, it was in a distant, almost contemplative voice

"When I was new to the job, I also tried to help, well, _fix_, the dying and their families," he smiled sadly, "I tried to find those same words you're looking for now, Laura. Never found them; always just made things worse by trying. Eventually, I realised that the most important thing I could do was just to _be_ there; so I was. Sometimes for hours, sometimes all through the night, I'd just sit there quietly with them so they had a hand to hold, or someone to rage at or cry on."

"That's...tough," Clint said.

"Yeah," said Thera, "But you know what? That's what people remember. They don't remember all the flash and glamour, and people chasing stretchers down the corridors shouting 'Get me more adrenaline!'. They remember the quiet hours, in the dark, and the fact that there was someone there for them and their loved ones at the end."

With what appeared to be an effort, the therapist pulled himself back together and pinned me with a stare, "The point is, Laura, is that you don't have to _do _anything. You and your family already doing everything you can just by _being_. The rest will be down to time and effective, professional treatment, and neither of those things can be rushed."

I swallowed, "I understand."

"Good," Thera said, and stood up, "I had hoped to cover more ground today, but I think we ended up getting a bit diverted. Instead, I think we'll leave the effects of grief and anger for next time, so-" he gave Clint a pointed look, "-please prepare yourselves accordingly."

* * *

We walked back to the car in silence, hand in hand. Thera's words were tumbling over and over in my head, but for his part Clint almost looked relieved. As soon as we clambered into the car and locked the doors, I turned to him and wrapped him in a long, silent embrace.

"What-" he began.

"Ssh," I said quietly, "I'm just following Thera's advice and _being_. I haven't _been_ for five years, so I figure I've got a lot of catching up to do."

Whatever Clint thought about this, he apparently decided to keep quiet and enjoy the moment, which ended scant seconds later when a loud, electrical squawk echoed through the car.

"God!" I shrieked, "What was that?"

My husband smirked, and reached around on the back seat until he found a small, grey speaker which he placed between us.

"Someone's on the phone," he said, and twiddled something on the underside, "One second; just need to correct the-"

"_-lease confirm,"_ a woman's voice came through the speaker, clear and strong. She sounded vaguely British, but there was a definite lilt to her accent that I couldn't identify, _"You want to switch targets?"_

"_I want to switch targets,"_ another voice replied. It was clearly Thera.

"_But why?" _the woman sounded confused, _"I thought we had it all worked out. This had better not be another one of your hunches…Thera."_

"_You're still loving that name, aren't you."_

"_Who wouldn't? I'm just looking forward to seeing the look on your sister's face."_

"_Does she _really _have to know? Look, you know my hunches are good for it, and this time - I'm telling you that we've hit the motherlode."_

"_You told me that before."_

"_And I wasn't wrong!" _Thera protested, _"It's just that... that lion intervened."_

"_And the time before that I got _shot_, sweetie," _the woman said, with heavy sarcasm, _"So please forgive my cynicism."_

"_I'm doing the best I can, love," _our therapist said, in a quiet but firm voice, _"This isn't easy on me either."_

There was the sound of someone exhaling heavily, _"I know, Thera. I do - and I'm sorry. It's just...I still can't quite believe this. I step out for twenty minutes and come back to find you and your sister making stupid contracts-"_

"_You only stepped out for twenty minutes _because_-" _

"_I know!"_

"And look_ at the news. Listen to the people on the ground, and then tell me that I did the wrong thing. I'm serious."_

"_So am I!"_ the woman pressed, _"It's just...why is it always _us_ who're having to make the sacrifice? I mean, we literally _died_ and where do we get sent as our eternal reward? A warehouse in someplace called _Missouri_! I _know_ I vowed to keep you safe, and you know that our home is wherever we're together...but we also _have_ a home - a beautiful home, and our friends. I miss our friends."_

"_I know," _Thera sighed, _"So do I."_

"_I even miss your sister, and that's something I thought I'd never say."_

"_I kind of feel like this is something we should be discussing face to face," _Thera said, carefully, and then there was a sloshing noise in the background.

"_What was that?" _the woman asked, _"Where are you?"_

"_In the basement," _Thera said, after a moment's pause, _"It's cold, it's dark, and I'm up to my ankles in water that smells like refried arse. Don't tell me I'm not suffering for my art."_

"_And you chose _that _phone because…?"_

"_I think someone's tapped the other line," _Thera said, _"I was pretty sure I could hear something up with it when I went to ring you the first time."_

"_I'll go and check the lines tonight," _the woman promised, and added, _"I'll also make sure that the _next_ time anyone tries that, they'll live to regret it."_

"_Don't kill anyone."_

"_Where would be the fun in that?" _the woman said playfully, _"Incidentally; I'm not sure what you said to the Bartons, but they haven't moved since they got in their car."_

"_Oh?" _Thera said, _"What are they doing?"_

"_Not sure. Tinted windows."_

"_Maybe they're having a tender moment," _Thera said, _"I've got high hopes for those two."_

"_I still have no idea why you chose them."_

"_I didn't, but I think I'm beginning to understand why they were."_

"_What, Clint Barton, Joke Avenger and the stay-at-home, insular wife who built herself a gilded cage?"_

"_Careful; we've underestimated people before and been burned for it," _Thera said warningly, _"They're just a microcosm of what's going on worldwide. Clint was too wrapped up in his own tragedy to be able to reach out to his wife for help, and Laura was rejecting him because otherwise she'd have to face up to what really happened to her and her family."_

"_Remember not to get _too_ wrapped up in the whole therapist thing, Thera,"_ the woman warned, _"We have a contract to complete."_

"_I know," _Thera said, _"Give me three weeks, and-"_

"_-I'm not the one timing you, Thera!"_ the woman pointed out, _"Give this much longer and people are going to assume that something went wrong and we just never...blipped back. They're going to declare us dead!"_

"_My sister-"_

"_-is already regarded by plenty of people as just being a bit mad. It won't take much work for them to decide that the loss of her brother and future sister-in-law was just too much to bear, particularly after everything else that's happened."_

"_Yeah, you're right."_

"_So ...still want to switch targets?"_

"_Definitely. This _is _going to work. I'm telling you, there's ridiculous levels of untapped potential there. If we can just unlock it..."_

There was a long, awkward pause, _"Well...in that case? I have news for you."_

"That_ sounds ominous."_

"_You know that guy I was talking to? He's not going to sell to us after all."_

"What?" there was another slosh from Thera's end, _"But you said-"_

"_I _know_ what I said," _the woman suddenly sounded testy, _"But apparently he's realised exactly _how_ valuable what he's got actually is. A local crime syndicate is offering more money."_

"_How _much_ more?"_

"_More than we have, by...a lot. I think. Still working out how many dollars is a lot."_

"_Okay…do we know where he is? _Who_ he is?"_

"_If we knew those things I wouldn't have to buy it. He's not an idiot, dear. Well, except for the bit where he's apparently expects to survive selling to a crime lord."_

"_And what happens if they get ahold of it?"_

"_They'll probably sell it to one of the larger criminal organisations, and then...well, it's a catalyst for all kinds of horror. Flayed bodies hanging from bridges? Reprisal attacks from the remaining Avengers? The entire situation could spiral out of control in no time flat. Oh, and we'd have to start over."_

"_Don't want that."_

"_No siree."_

"_I feel like you already know what you're going to do," _Thera said, _"And I feel like I'm not going to like it."_

"_Look, you take care of the healing and I'll take care of the protection," _the woman said shortly, _"And the dry cleaning, if it comes to that. Besides, I'm pretty sure I see an opportunity here to kill two birds with one stone. Should make completing our contract a little easier."_

"_Technically, it's not _your _contract."_

"_Of _course _it_ _is!" _the woman snapped suddenly, _"If you sign, I sign! If I'm cut, you bleed! Isn't that part of what we promised each other?"_

"_That's...that's true."_

"_Besides," _the woman continued, more softly, _"You're here because of me. I know that. I mean…" _she sniffed, _"Most girls just get flowers."_

"_Well, if I'd known you'd just wanted flowers then that would've saved us a whole heap of trouble!" _I could hear Thera grinning down the line, _"Look; we'll have to discuss this later. I'm getting cold feet, and I'm pretty sure the rats down here are massing for an attack."_

"_I'm going to do some more digging on my little turncoat, and__ find out where he's selling, and when. I can't imagine he'll move for at least a week, though. The guy's pretty cagey."_

"_Okay. See you later. Love you."_

"_Love you too."_

There was a click, and the line went dead.

"Well," Clint said, in a rather self-satisfied tone, "Wasn't _that_ interesting?"


	6. Chapter 6: Windows to the past

**Chapter Six: Windows to the past**

We drove home in a slightly confused silence. While Clint was right in that our illicit activities had turned up all kinds of _interesting _information, the only incriminating piece was the photo of the 'Phoenix' virus that I had recovered from Thera's drawer. The rest was...well, it shed a little more light on an otherwise elusive pair, but if I was being honest with myself I couldn't _really _believe that the people I had just heard would be capable of committing such an atrocity.

Clint, meanwhile, had _other_ concerns.

"Joke Avenger," he said angrily, and hit his palm on the steering wheel, "_Joke _Avenger? You heard her, right?"

"I did," I said, and added pointedly, "She wasn't _exactly _complimentary about me either."

"I mean, sure," Clint went on, "I might not have a fancy suit, or magical powers, or be an actual Norse god, but I can hit _anything_ with _anything_. Can she do that?"

"I don't know, but she certainly didn't lack confidence, did she."

"Huh!" he said, "Let's see how confident she is after going a round with Loki, or Ulton, or even Thanos! I did just as much as the other Avengers, and that's _without _being pumped full of super soldier serum!"

"Clint," I said, and touched his arm soothingly, "You saved half the universe; you saved our _family_. Who cares what some random woman thinks?"

"I know," he said, his anger subsiding slightly, "It's just…"

"Besides, the other Avengers may have been powerful, but off the battlefield they were an utter mess," I pointed out, "Stark was a neurotic attention seeker who endangered the planet almost as often as he saved it, Rogers had a stick rammed so far up his ass you could turn him on a spit, and Banner was always one bad day from being a national emergency. Even Nat was a walking pile of unresolved issues, Clint. None of them could actually function in the real world like you can. How many of them had a long-term relationship, or a family?"

"Stark had a kid with Potts, remember? Morgan," Clint said, "You met her at his funeral."

"Oh, right," I smiled, "I still can't get my head around Stark the woodsman. It's funny how you blip the little things, right?"

Clint smiled too, "Look, if you think I'm more grounded than the rest of the Avengers, it's because of you and the kids. Without you…I lost my way."

"I know," I said, and forced the now-expected surge of anger back down, deep inside, "But it's okay."

"No, it's not," he said, and when I looked at him I could see that the tension had returned in force, "It's...bad, Laura. What I did…"

"What _did_ you do?" I took a deep breath, and then added, "Is this about Natasha, Clint?"

"No," he shook his head, "No, it isn't."

"Um…" my stomach was suddenly churning, but I had to ask, "Was it another woman? I mean...that would _suck_, but I was gone for five years. You know I would understan-"

"No!" he protested, "No, there wasn't anyone else. Ever."

"I didn't think so," I said, and tried to hide the relief in my voice, "But hon - you're scaring me, and you're not giving me a whole lot to go on. Is this what Thera was hinting at all through the session?"

"I think so…" Clint said, "But I'm not sure."

"You're not _sure_? Damnit, Clint!" I shouted suddenly, and slammed my hand down on my armrest, "In our marriage we're supposed to tell each other everything! I'm _trying_ to be patient, and I _know_ that what happened to you while I was...gone must have been terrible, but I will _not_ tolerate you and that damn Thera sharing secrets over my head while we're trying to relearn how to be a couple!"

"I'm not sharing secrets with him!" Clint protested, "He just _knows_ stuff!"

"It's the same damn thing!" I yelled, "_You_ know, _he_ knows, and _I_ don't know! Why am I always the one being kept in the dark?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. I closed my eyes and murmured 'be patient and forgiving' under my breath several times until the anger drained away.

"I'm sorry, babe," I said, in a calmer tone, "I shouldn't have shouted. I know this is all really difficult for you, and...look; no matter what's happened, I promise you that it's not going to change the way I feel about you."

"You can't promise that."

"Oh, I can," I said firmly, "Remember when I said that a part of you blipped with us? I really meant that. Whatever remained during the five years we were away, it just a…a _thing_ of rage, and pain, and loss. It certainly wasn't my husband, because everything that made _you_ \- your love, your devotion, your determination - was with me the entire time."

There was another long silence while Clint digested that, but when he smiled, it was like the sun coming up.

"That's...a nice sentiment," he said, "Maybe we should get it framed."

"I'm serious!" I said, and slapped lightly at his arm, "That's what I believe!"

"I can't _wait_ to see what Thera makes of that one," Clint said, and then laughed, "Do you think he'll be smug, or sarcastic?"

"Probably both," I replied, "Are you going to bring those hand grenades like he asked?"

"It's tempting, isn't it," Clint mused, "I'm curious to see how far his imagination will take us."

"Nowhere good, I'm sure," I said, "Listen...honey; you don't need to tell me what happened right away. Take as long as you need - it's just that if I'm going to hear about whatever _it_ is, I would like to hear it from you, not from that 'superior-sounding Limey bastard'."

"Oh, I'm going to do better than tell you," Clint said, and a grim little edge entered his voice, "I'm going to _show_ you."

* * *

As soon as we got home, Clint dragged Stark's intelligence device out from underneath our bed and set it up in the living room. With the air of someone about to undertake something unpleasant he quickly booted up the machine, and the large panels winked into existence around us.

"Now, I know you've seen some of these before, but…" he sighed, and with a gesture pulled up the pictures of the cloaked, sword-carrying man, "This is me. Looking at the timestamp, they must have been captured about three months ago, just after I got to Tokyo."

"If you say so," I said, dubiously, "But I'm not sure-"

Clint flicked his hand, and the images were replaced with a series of newspaper articles. They were all written in Japanese, but all were accompanied by a series of grisly pictures showing, amongst other things, a long line of body bags, a series of chalk outlines, and the interior of a building that had apparently been torn to pieces by a tornado.

"If you're wondering, that headline reads 'Ronin strikes again'," Clint said, a little nervously, "That one says 'Sixty killed by vigilante', and _that_ one says 'Yakuza branch destroyed by sword-wielding assailant."

"Sixty?" I said, and sat down hard, "You killed _sixty _people? That's...wow."

"_Also, when did he learn Japanese?"_

"That time," Clint said, and swept both hands to one side. The newspaper articles flickered and were replaced with a very similar set of images, now accompanied by Spanish, "_This_ was a Mexican drug cartel, and these-" another set of images appeared, "-were people traffickers operating between North Africa and the EU. And these-"

"Okay, okay! I get the point," I said, "How many people did you kill? You know, all together?"

"Oh, um…" Clint clapped his hands together, and the articles were replaced with a large grid of mugshots showing people from across the planet, "Two hundred? Two hundred and fifty? It was over three years, but most of them were in the last year."

"Mmm…" I said, lost momentarily in the grid of people who had fallen victim to my husband. When I shook myself back to reality, I saw Clint studying me carefully, and as the silence developed I could see a mixture of sadness and self-loathing creep across his face.

"Honey," I said soothingly, "I _told_ you, nothing you've done can change the way I feel about you, and this…" I waved indistinctly at the mugshots, "Why would this be any different?"

My husband looked stunned. Whatever response he had anticipated, it clearly wasn't _that_. Still...I had to know.

"I've just gotta ask..._why_? What convinced you to start being this…'Ronin' vigilante?"

Clint sat down next to me, apparently unsure how to answer. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper that I struggled to hear, "It wasn't fair, Laura. Thanos took you, the children - almost everyone I loved, and what did he leave behind? Drug lords, pimps, murderers...I couldn't take it. So I set out to clean up what he missed. I started small; armed robbers, small time drug operations, local gangs, but that wasn't enough. As time went by, I got more convinced that what I was doing was what I was _meant_ to be doing, so I got braver and started going after larger targets. I hit a drug cartel in Mexico; slaughtered them before they had a chance to draw their weapons…"

I stayed silent, but reached out and put my hand around his shoulders. The anger was bubbling again, somewhere deep inside, but I knew now that I could keep it under control.

"...and from there I moved to Japan. Targeted one of the major Yakuza families and did much the same thing. The last guy begged for mercy, but...I didn't give it to him. That was when Nat found me and gave me something I hadn't had for years."

"Hope?"

"A glimmer, but it was enough. If she hadn't turned up then, my next target probably would have been all but a suicide mission. I didn't mind; either I put another criminal organisation out of action, or I got to see you and the kids again," he smiled bitterly, "It was almost a win-win situation, when you think about it."

"She was a true friend," I said, "And she never gave up on you."

"I know."

"I'm not giving up on you either," I added, "Not _ever_."

"But Nat was...she was an assassin," if anything, he sounded a little confused, "I didn't think you would-

"Understand?" I rolled my eyes, "Clint, you're a soldier; every so often, Fury puts in a call and off you trot with your bow and your sword. There's some big, headline-grabbing news, and then you come back looking like you've been mauled by a bear and our bank account gets a mysterious infusion of cash. I'm not a fool; I _know_ what you do when you go away, and I made peace with it even before I married you."

"This...this is different, though," Clint said, apparently overcoming his surprise.

"Is it? Let's take a look, shall we?" I started picking random individuals off the grid, "Drug lord, enforcer, people trafficker, slaver, assassin, child prostitution, pirate...these are _terrible_ people, Clint. To their victims, these are all just as bad as anyone the Avengers ever took down. Worse, possibly."

"I wasn't any better than them," he said, thickly, "I massacred them. It didn't matter if they were armed or not, or if they begged for mercy..."

"You don't need to use a gun to destroy someone's life, Clint," I pointed out, "Some people manage far worse when armed with pens. Also, let me ask you - when do you think was the last time a slaver listened to mercy?"

"You...really aren't disturbed by this? _Really_?"

"Really," I said, "You know I've always been proud of what you did with S.H.I.E.L.D and with the Avengers, even though the rest of the world didn't always agree. You've always operated off the books and below the grid; this is just more of the same, and if anything-" my lips quirked, "-I'm a little irritated that you undertook this _pro bono_. How much does a drug lord go for these days?"

I could see the tears welling up in Clint's eyes, and then he said, "You know, I think I missed that weird, dark sense of humour of yours the most. You always know what to say to help me feel better."

"It's my job, honey," I smiled, and shook him gently, "I'm just sorry that I couldn't be here to help you any earlier. I wish..."

"It's okay," Clint said, and smiled sadly, "I know; the traffic was awful."

"It was a five year tailback," I said, "I'm just glad you were able to come bail us out."

"That's _my_ job, honey."

"I know," I said, "And I know that sometimes it gets a little messy - but you're a good person, Clint. While you might not think that about yourself right now, I'm telling you that there's people out there right now who're lighting a candle in memory of the vigilante who stepped in when nobody else did."

For a long time we sat there, while the windows to Clint's past gently span around us. We couldn't possibly tell the children about this - at least, not yet. Firstly, I didn't want to risk harming the children's image of their father, at least not until they were old enough to understand more fully. Secondly, I didn't want either Cooper or Lila to start telling other at school that their dad was Ronin, crime-fighting vigilante. While they might (might!) think it was cool, there was the undeniable risk that the rumour might find its way back to the police, and that presented a number of problems that I really didn't want to consider.

"_So, we're going to become an accessory to the murders of over two hundred people, all in the name of love?"_ there was a mental pause, and then, _"Well, in for a penny, I guess…"_

"Clint," I said quietly, and he stirred at my touch. Maybe it was the light of the screens, but I fancied that the lines on his face were a little less pronounced, and some of the tension had drained away, "Just to be sure..._nobody_ knows that you were Ronin, right?"

"Aside from Natasha?"

"Nobody _alive_," I said, and winced, "Sorry. It's just if any of those criminal organisations you attacked find out who you are, then...well, they'd definitely come for the children, and I might have a _little_ bit more trouble forgiving you then."

Clint's eyes widened, as if realising something for the first time.

"No," he said, with some finality, "No, they couldn't. My face was covered every time I was, uh, _working,_ and I always made sure to wipe the security footage. In most cases, the police thought it was rival gangs duking it out."

"But we have _these_ images," I pointed at the device, "Are you _sure_ that there aren't any that are potentially incriminating?"

"Stark said he wiped the lot," Clint said, "He left the ones like those because people might start digging if there were _no_ images of Ronin to be found. If they could trace that back to Stark industries then it would have put all the Avengers under suspicion."

"And you're the only one who uses _that_ sword," I said, "We should probably get rid of it...and any _other_ souvenirs you might have kept."

"Just the sword. And the clothes, but-"

"We'll burn them," I said, "We have to. We can't risk anything."

"They're upstairs in my work safe," Clint said, "If we want to do a proper job, then I'll need to go into town tomorrow and pick up some gas. A simple bonfire might not burn hot enough to properly destroy the evidence, and it certainly won't be enough to melt down that sword."

"Okay," I said, "I suppose that just leaves updating what we know about Thera into this system, then."

"I'll also give Fury a call, and send him the photos you took," Clint said, "He might know something about this 'Phoenix' virus, or it might spur him into action."

"Hopefully."

"You did good today, hon," he grinned, "Just wait until I tell him that Laura Barton hit the jackpot! Who knows, you may just have prevented something terrible."

"Maybe," I said dubiously, "But those two just...something doesn't fit. Call it a hunch."

"Well, we'll see," Clint said, "I'm sure that we'll get another chance to investigate their little operation before too long."

* * *

The morning quickly became the afternoon as we added what we now knew about Thera and his fiancee into the system. As we talked, debated and argued each point it became ever more clear to me that a huge weight had been lifted off Clint's shoulders. While he clearly hadn't cared about the consequences of his actions while we were Blipped, the realisation that he would, at some point, have to come clean about what he had done must have been absolutely terrifying. The relief was almost tangible, and as the hours flew by I could definitely see even more and more signs of my old husband peeking above the surface.

"_See?"_ my mind said, _"He faced his fears, and now they're no longer eating away at him. Maybe it's time you woman up and do the same, Laura."_

"What about Clint? I don't want to force him to watch-"

"_Clint's a big boy, and he can make his own choices. Besides, we both know that this isn't _really_ about Clint's feelings."_

"I-" I said, and Clint looked up suddenly, "Clint, before we put Stark's thing away, there's something I need to see."

My husband looked concerned, "Sure, honey; what is it?"

"I need to see..." I began, and had to stop. Each word felt heavy on my tongue, as if they desperately didn't want to be heard, "I need to see if there was satellite coverage of our farmstead, five years ago. I need to see-"

Clint gasped, and took a hold of the settee, "Laura, no. You don't want to-"

"You're right, I _don't_ want to," I said, "But I need to. I need to see myself…"

"Did Thera put you up to this?"

"No," I said, "Actually, I was asking him about it just before you arrived - and I know, that makes me a terrible hypocrite for sharing secrets over your head with that damn Thera, but...I think I have to see. You don't have to, if you don't want to. Believe me, I _more _than understand."

Clint thought about it for a moment, but then his face became set and he straightened, "No," he said, grimly, "If you absolutely have to watch yourself get turned to dust, then I'm going to watch it with you. Are you absolutely _sure_ about this?"

"Absolutely," I said, "If there's no coverage, then fine. But if there is? It's just going to eat away at me until I face it, and today seems to be a good day for facing things down."

My heart was pounding in my chest as Clint quickly punched in our home address and called up the satellite footage of the area. Sure enough, the screen flickered up with a high definition image of our beautiful little farmstead, partially hidden beneath the clouds. As Clint turned back time past our return, I watched as the house and surrounding grounds suddenly become dirty and dilapidated, with overgrown grasses and vines snaking through the outhouses and across the drive. As the years turned back on themselves, the grass slowly began to retreat, and the house seemed to restore itself to its original glory, until-

"Here we are," Clint said, in a serious tone of voice, "The day of the Snap. Looks like we had oversight from one of Stark's military satellites, too. Look; drone strikes, kinetic impactors...he could have made a real mess if he wanted to."

"Zoom in," I said curtly. At that moment, I wasn't interested in what toys Stark had hovering over our house, "Down by the table. Just...keep it focused on me."

"_Not the children,"_ for once, I was in full agreement with myself, _"Never the children."_

In fast motion, we watched as a woman came out, set the table, and vanished back inside, emerging a moment later with a tray full of hotdogs and buns.

"Here we go," I said, and took Clint's hand, "Slow it down a little, please."

He nodded. A fine sheen of sweat was developing on his forehead, and his grip tightened steadily as my doppelganger reached the table and set down the tray.

"_Not surprising, really. This is the moment that he lost it all, captured forever in high definition and slow motion."_

We both watched, impassively, as she looked up and called her family for lunch, and turned back to the table. As she reached out for a hotdog her hand and arm suddenly became a dull, ashen brown and her skin began to crack and peel. The discolouration and cracks spread rapidly up her arm to her shoulder and then across her body, encompassing everything; skin, clothes, hair, and dress, until she resembled nothing more than a poorly made clay statue. A moment later, she just fell apart into a fine cloud of ash that floated lazily in the breeze before it was caught up and dissipated in a gust of wind. When the last speck faded, the only evidence that she had ever been was a faint pair of footprints in the grass.

From start to finish, her death had taken all of five seconds. I stared at those footprints for what felt like much longer, wondering what I should be taking away from this.

"Laura?" when Clint finally spoke, his voice was strained, "Laura, are you okay?"

"I'm...fine," I said, in a faintly puzzled tone, "Again, please."

"What?"

"Again. I need to see it again."

"But-" my husband sighed, and rewound the footage ever so slightly. Again, I watched as the woman turned to ash and crumbled in the sunshine.

"Again," I said.

"Laura-"

"Clint?" I silenced him with a hard look, "Again."

My husband looked worried, but dutifully allowed me to see the footage once again.

"_Out of curiosity, at what point are we just doing this to torture Clint?"_

"I don't know," I said, "Again-"

"No, Laura!" Clint snapped. Rather belatedly, I realised that his hands were shaking, "I am not going to watch you die over and over again until you tell me what you're looking for!"

"I don't _know_!" I gave a frustrated sigh, "I've spent the whole of last week working myself up over this, I had Thera warn me _against_ looking at it, and now that I actually _see_ her-" I pointed at the empty spot of grass where the woman had once stood, "-I...don't feel anything! All this time I've been getting angrier and more worked up every time someone mentioned death, and now all I'm thinking about is what hoover she ended up in! How messed up is that? And why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because...you do realise that is _you_, right?" Clint said. He had a worried expression on his face.

"Of course I do!" I snapped, "'She', 'me', what's the difference?"

"One of those lets you continue living in a world where you _didn't_ die!" he said, and right on cue I felt the now-familiar anger surge up inside me, "Thera was right; you just can't handle what _really_ happened to you and the kids, can you? You keep going around using these euphemisms, like 'Blipped', or 'being away', or 'gone', but...you _died_, Laura. Thanos killed you, and our children, and half the universe."

For a moment, the fury raged so hot that I was absolutely sure I was going to scream, but with a herculean effort I managed to wrestle it back under control.

"Don't believe me?" Clint said, "Shall we watch a little further? I'll zoom out, too."

"No, _don't_-" I said, and in an instant the anger had turned to raw, cold panic, "Please-"

It was too late. Clint had brought the camera back up, away from the table to show the grounds as a whole. The field where Nate and Cooper had been playing catch was now empty, and my heart caught in my throat - but then my attention was drawn back to movement down by the garage.

"Clint-" I pleaded with my husband, but with a flick of his hand he centered the view and zoomed back in on his younger self, running across from the garage towards the table.

"_Look at him, Laura," _my mind said, and I felt the anger building in the pit of my stomach, _"Look at Clint. He looked away for one moment, looked back, and...his wife was gone."_

Clearly desperate, the young Clint skidded to a halt almost exactly on top of the faded footprints and looked around wildly. He was shouting something at the top of his voice, but I had no idea-

"_Of course you do. He's calling for his wife, the boys, Lila - anyone. But she's not there, is she? Except for the bits of her now in the bottom of his lungs."_

A moment later, he was off again, running towards the back door like a man possessed.

"_And there he goes. He doesn't even know he's a widow yet; he doesn't know that he's got five years of hell before he'll sees his wife again. Before she's more than dust in the wind."_

"I hoped you'd all gone inside," Clint's voice sounded very far away, indistinct over the ringing in my ears, "Then I heard the radio-"

"_As far as he knows, 'soup's on' was the last words he'll ever hear his wife say," _suddenly, the anger because nausea, and it surged within me, _"And who was his wife?"_

"Me," I murmured, almost too soft to be heard.

"_His wife died, Laura."_

"Yes."

"_You died."_

"I died," I said, and felt the world spin around me, "I _died_."

Luckily, I made it to the toilet just in time.

* * *

"That was _low_," I said later, "_Really_ low."

"It worked, didn't it?" Clint said, "How's that tea?"

"Just perfect," I sighed, and settled back into the embrace of the sofa, "Thanks for holding my hair back. Haven't needed you to do that since I was pregnant with Lila."

"Well, I do feel kind of responsible-"

"You were _fully_ responsible, you asshole!" I smiled, and cuffed him playfully on the arm, "But you were also right. How did you know?"

"How do you feel?"

"I asked first," I said.

"How did I know? I _didn't_. At first, I didn't know _what _to do," he said, "I mean, you were looking at a video of your literal death and declaring that it was someone else."

"It think it was my last line of defence," I said, "If I didn't admit I died, maybe I never did."

"But you see, I suddenly remembered when you had that health scare. You were so calm about it until I freaked out, and _then_ you freaked out. I figured that if you saw how I responded to your death, then it might shake you out of your delusions."

"Well, it worked," I said, and then added, "And I'm sorry I forced you to watch me die over, and over, and over, and over-"

"-and over-"

"Again," I finished, with a roll of the eyes, "That must have been difficult for you."

"It definitely brought back a _lot _of bad memories," he said, "Watching it with you made it a bit easier, though."

"If it helps, it didn't hurt," I assured him, "I think I must have just mentally checked out, because I certainly don't remember my arm exploding like that."

"So how _do_ you feel?" he pressed.

"Calm," I said, and inhaled the gentle fragrances of the tea, "Too calm. I'm probably in shock, actually."

"How 'bout the anger? Is it…?"

"I don't know," I replied, "Tell me I died, or something about being dead, or…"

"Okay...uh, um…" he cast around, "Okay? Knock knock."

"Are you serious?"

"Knock knock."

"...who's there?"

"Not you, 'cause you're dead. Get it? _Get_ it?" he waggled his eyebrows, and I scowled.

"That doesn't count. You're just trying to _make_ me angry," I said, "But even with that terrible joke, I feel better than I have in a long time. Certainly since you guys resurrected me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I feel...new. Like a Laura Barton 2.0," I considered this, "Maybe I _am_ new. Do you think when I was put back together that it used my old atoms, or did it just use whatever was nearby? You realise I could be part table."

"Ah," Clint said, and smiled knowingly, "Now I recognise this - I've seen it in soldiers just after they've survived a firefight. You're just on a bit of a high after finally releasing all that stress; as long as you don't try to make any life changing decisions or romantic entanglements or in the next few hours, everything'll be fine."

"It's okay; I'm not going to do anything stupid, dear," I said, and then a thought suddenly occured to me, "Clint; we need to get re-married!"

"See, that's exactly the sort of thing I'm talking about-"

"No hon, I'm being serious," I said, "Think about it; 'till death do us part'? We just watched our marriage ending. I want it back."

"You already have it!" Clint protested, "You're still my wife, no matter what anyone says."

"Then prove it," I said, "And you can do it right this time, mister. No more of that 'I'm just a humble circus boy but please accept this possibly plastic ring that may or may not have fallen out of a Christmas cracker.'"

"You're still wearing it," he said.

"Well, of course! I accepted it, didn't I?" I said, and laughed easily for the first time in what felt like days, "It's fine, honey; we can just pop down to city hall and get the license reissued. I'm sure they must have a 'blip certificate' or something by now for us star-crossed lovers."

Clint smirked, and came to sit down next to me, "Why the rush? My ex-wife isn't feeling insecure now, is she?"

"Why would I be?" I said coyly, "All the other girls might think you're Clint Barton, Avenger and Saviour of the Universe, but they don't know about your horrible personality and disgusting personal habits."

My apparently ex-husband laughed, and then added, "I'm so glad you're not dead anymore. Life was getting pretty empty without you."

"What, was hacking up the Yakuza beginning to lose its shine?" I raised my eyebrows, and set my tea down on the table, "Now come on. We need to get that thing packed away before the kids get home, or we'll have to explain why mommy and daddy were spending the afternoon watching mommy get vaporised."

"It was for a good cause," Clint said, springing to his feet. I watched him head into the other room with a faint smile on my face and then followed suit. Who knew - maybe being dead wasn't so bad.

"Here's a thought, hon," I called after him, "How about we watch the bit when you guys brought me back to life? I kind of want to see what that looked like!"

I had a second chance, and I wasn't about to waste it.


	7. Chapter 7: Martyrs to Fate

**Chapter Seven: Martyrs to Fate**

As Clint had warned, my posthumous high didn't last forever. While it did, however, I made sure I got the most out of it, and spent a (reasonably) entertaining twenty minutes watching myself repeatedly pop back into existence, hand still outstretched for a hot-dog that had long since rotted away to nothing. For no apparent reason, I found this absolutely hilarious - and although Clint didn't exactly share my mirth, he at least seemed somehow comforted by the footage of my spontaneous reappearance.

Reality, however, came crashing back in with the return of our older two from school. We had just squirreled the device back inside our room when I heard the front door being wrenched open. A moment later, someone came stomping up the stairs and along the landing, and then there was another loud 'bang' as a door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the paintings on the wall.

"Cooper?" Clint said.

"Cooper," I nodded, and held up a hand as he stepped forward, "I'll go to him, dear. You should go find Lila before she gets into the cookies."

"But-"

"It's fine, Clint," I smiled, "And if it turns out that we need to go and bust some heads, I promise that I'll let you do it this time."

"I'm going to hold you to that," he said, and left to go downstairs. I took a moment to compose and prepare myself, and then walked along the landing to gently knock on Cooper's door.

"Coop?" I called, gently, "Honey, is everything okay?"

There was a muffled response from the other side of the door, but I was pretty sure it was 'go away'. With an inward sigh, I slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door. Cooper was sitting sullenly on his bed staring across the room at nothing in particular, and scowled at me as I came in.

"Coop-" I began, and then stopped as I realised what I was seeing. My son had definitely been in the wars; his lip was cut, his hair was mussed, and there was the beginning of what looked like a serious bruise forming on his cheek. From the way he was lightly touching his side, I was pretty sure that he had taken a blow to the ribs as well. In a flash I was by his side, my fingers gently tracing the outline of his injuries, "Coop! What in the world happened to you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said, and drew away from my hand, "Just leave me alone."

"Oh no, mister," I said firmly, "You're going to tell me where you got all...all _these_ from, or you'll be telling me _and_ your father. Out with it."

Cooper looked down at his feet and mumbled something, just too soft to hear.

"_Coop_!"

"Alright, alright!" he said, "I got in a fight, okay!"

"What?" I blinked, "Cooper Barton, you _know_ that's unacceptable_-_"

"They shouldn't have said what they said!"

"Nothing anyone says should be worth starting a fight over, Coop! You know that!"

"Oh yeah? I don't remember you saying that when you punched that lady in the face!" from his expression he knew he had me, and I held up both hands in supplication.

"You're right; you're right," I said, "So what _did_ they say? Is this ...about us blipping?"

"No. I mean sure, there's a couple of kids who've tried to make that a thing, but…" my son shrugged, "They were talking about Auntie Nat, mom. They...said she was a terrible person and that she deserved to die - and then they started laughing."

"I'm sorry, hon," I said quietly, and took his hand, "That must have been difficult for you to hear."

"How could they say that about Auntie Nat?" Cooper said angrily, "She was always so nice!"

"_Better pick your words carefully, Laura."_

"Auntie Nat was...complicated. More than most people."

"What does that mean, mom?"

"It means...it means she had a lot of sides to her," I said, struggling to find the right words, "I mean, there was 'Auntie Nat', who loved you and the other two very much, but there was also 'Agent Romanoff' who went on missions and did things that...weren't always _good_, but always needed to be done."

"Dad said she died so that we could come back," Coop said, and suddenly his voice was very small, "Did she die because she loved us?"

That question hit me hard, and in an instant the anger came roaring back, strong and raw and oh so virulent. I felt my fingers clench reflexively, and as I desperately fought for control I dimly became aware of Coop repeatedly tapping me on the arm.

"Mom!" he said, "Mom! You're hurting me!"

"What?" I said, and looked down. His hand had gone white where I was been gripping it, and I quickly let go and sat back.

"Sorry, dear!" I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I know," he said, and then asked again, "Did Auntie-"

"No, hon," I replied firmly, "She...I think Auntie Nat was always haunted by the things she had to do, and she wanted to find a way to make it right."

"How does dying make it right?" Coop pressed, and yet again I paused while I tried to find the words.

"Because...she gave us a second chance," I said, and my voice cracked slightly, "After Thanos killed us she spent every moment she could holding the Avengers together, and she _never_ stopped looking for a way to undo what he did. When she was told she would have to die to save us? She didn't even hesitate," I smiled slightly, "She was so determined she even tased your father."

"She saved his life, too," he said, contemplatively, "Otherwise-"

"Yeah, I know," I said, and tried to force that image down deep inside, "Whatever Auntie Nat may have done during her life, her selflessness saved our family and trillions more like us. Remember her for that, okay?"

"I'll try."

"And don't ever forget that she _loved _you, Coop," I added, and suddenly found myself struggling to keep my voice level, "One of the reasons why she became a better person is because of you, Lila, and Nate. You gave her a _reason _to do so."

"I...guess," he said, after a moment's thought, "But what do I do if other people say-"

"It doesn't matter what they say, hon," I said, "They don't know Auntie Nat like you do. Have you...talked to any of the counsellors about this? I know the school has some."

"Hah," Cooper snorted, "Lila and I got dragged in to talk to one. All Lila could talk about was Maisie, but...how can I tell them about Auntie Nat? I can't tell anyone about Dad, and if I said that 'Black Widow' was my aunt they'd either think I was mad or…"

"True."

"And they keep trying to be my friend, mom," he went on, "It just feels so...fake. I don't want people faking being nice to me just 'cause I blipped. It makes me feel like a freak."

"Okay, well…" I paused, "You know you can always talk to me or your father-"

"Dad's hurting enough right now, mom," Cooper said, "He needs _me_, not the other way around."

"That's…" my heart suddenly swelled, and I could feel the tears already welling up inside me.

"_Good heavens. How on earth did _we_ manage to raise such an amazing kid?"_

"Are you okay, mom?" Coop was looking at me with some concern.

"I'm fine," I said, and wiped my eyes, "How about me? I mean, we're talking now."

"And you nearly crushed my hand, mom," he pointed out, holding up his still-white appendage as evidence, "Auntie Nat was your friend, too."

"Okay, Coop. Let me...let me think about this," I said, "And If I can find someone for you to talk to, would you _want _to talk to them? Do you think it would help?"

"I guess," he said, and waved at his face, "It can't be any worse than getting beaten up. That's for sure."

* * *

I left Coop in his room and went downstairs to find Clint and Lila. Surprisingly, Clint had managed to get to Lila _before_ she had managed to get into the cookie jar, but from the puppy dog eyes she was giving her Dad I was sure that it would only be a matter of time before his resolve crumbled.

"No cookies until after dinner, Lila," I said brisky, "You'll ruin your appetite. And your teeth."

"But mom-!"

"No buts! You know the rules."

Lila pouted, and turned to give Clint her most cajoling look.

"Dad-"

"Oh no," he said, holding up both his hands, "There's no way I'm crossing your mother."

"Huh!" my daughter sulked for a moment, and then recovered with surprising speed, "I saw Maisie at school today. She hasn't been there for a while, but I saw her today!"

"Lila," I began, "Um…"

"She was helping out in our Blip class," Lila rabbited on, "They've had some of the older children who _didn't_ Blip help out 'cause some of the teachers who _did_ Blip are having to learn stuff themselves and anyway she was there and she kept looking at me but she didn't say anything to me," she took a deep breath, "Do you think I should say something to her? I don't want her to feel sad again."

"_Okay - how in the world did an international secret agent and a stay-at-home farmgirl manage to raise _two _compassionate children? The mind boggles."_

"I...maybe you should just give her some space," I said, "Maybe she'll talk to you when she's ready."

"I hope so," Lila said, "I miss her."

"I know, darling, but at least you know she's _there_," I said, "You need to think about how she would've felt during the five years while we blipped. It's a lot for her to have to deal with," I paused, and smiled gently at Clint, "It's a lot for _anyone_ to have to deal with, and sometimes we'll just need to be patient and forgiving until they're ready to talk."

"I know," my daughter said, "I'll give her some space."

"Good girl," I said, and after a moment's consideration got the cookie jar down from the shelf and unscrewed it, "Just one. Now shoo; I need to talk to your father."

"Thanks, mom!" Lila hopped down from the table and dashed into the other room. A moment later, the familiar sound of daytime television filtered back through the door.

"Coop got in a fight today," I said to Clint, once I was sure Lila was engrossed in her cartoons, "Apparently there were some kids bad-mouthing Nat, and he couldn't handle it."

"Is he hurt?" Clint said, "Do I need to-"

"He's fine," I reassured him, "I think he just needs a little time alone right now - but I would like him to talk to someone. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to like the counsellors at school, and he doesn't want to hurt our feelings _either_."

"He's a good kid," he smiled, "So...who do you want him to talk to? You'd better not be thinking of-"

"He needs to talk to someone who knows about 'Auntie Nat', knows that you're an Avenger, and who isn't even going to _attempt_ to be his friend," I shrugged, "There aren't many people who fit that bill."

"Yeah, and the one you're thinking of may or may not be planning to release a virus on the United States!" Clint pointed out, and then snapped his fingers, "That reminds me, I actually need to check in with Fury and let him know what you found."

"You didn't do that earlier?"

"When would I have done it? I got sidetracked by my crazy wife wanting to repeatedly watch her own death," he pointed out, "And then I got sidetracked by my crazy wife wanting to repeatedly watch her own resurrection. I'll call him in a second...but I'm definitely not crazy about you taking Coop to see Thera. The guy doesn't strike me as the kind of person who likes children very much."

"I know he sets your teeth on edge-"

"You mean he doesn't set _your_ teeth on edge?" Clint raised an eyebrow, "The guy never misses a chance to talk down to us!"

"And I... think that's an act," I said, "Call it a hunch, but I'm pretty sure he's trying very hard to be someone he isn't."

Clint looked like he was about to say something, but then paused and gave me a careful look, "Are you sure about that?"

"I'm pretty positive - why?"

"Because you've always been good at reading people. Better than me, for sure."

"Now you're flattering me," I snorted, "Look; it's just a hunch, and he and his fiancee are _clearly_ planning something...but I still reckon he'd be good for Coop. He's a competitive boy and Thera clearly enjoys being antagonistic; maybe he can get more out of him then we could. Besides, can you think of anyone else?"

"...no," Clint sighed, "I'm still a bit surprised Coop doesn't want to talk to you. You always seem to know just what to say."

"Seriously, Clint," I said, suspiciously, "What's with all this flattery? I'm beginning to think you're angling for something."

"It's the truth!" he protested.

"Mmm-hmm," I said, "Well, you know the deal. Commando leathers or bust."

"Honestly, I can't believe I didn't know you were into that. All these years wasted," he sighed wistfully, and checked his watch, "Anyway, we'll have to pick this up later; I need to go get Nate."

"Sure," I said, "I'll see if I can get in contact with Thera, I guess. I'll try that number that keeps sending us appointment reminders."

"Or you could stand in front of a mirror and say his name three times," Clint smirked, "Legend says if you do that he'll appear and say something that he thinks is funny."

"Stop it!" I laughed, and slapped at his arm, "How's Liv, by the way?"

"Not sure. I don't hang out at the school gate," he said, "_However_, I did hear overhear someone _else _saying that she 'was going to shoot that bitch Laura if she ever sets foot inside school grounds again' so I don't get the feeling she's the forgiving type."

"Charming."

"I know, right?" he said, and leaned in for a quick kiss, "I'll see you in half an hour."

* * *

After quickly checking up on Lila and Coop, I settled back down on the dining room table and pulled out my phone. After a couple of moments I located and dialled the mystery number that had been sending us appointments, but was not entirely surprised when my phone beeped angrily at me and told me that it couldn't connect. With a sigh, I put the phone down and leaned forwards putting my head in my hands.

"_Relax, Laura,"_ my mind said, _"You can't solve everyone's problems in a single day."_

"Yeah, but...I should be able to solve this one," I muttered, "I mean, _really_."

"_Maybe you should be working on solving the mystery of why you're still getting _so_ angry? I mean, it hasn't gone away just because you've admitted that Thanos killed you, so what is it?"_

"I don't know," I sighed, "Maybe I'm just angry. Maybe something went wrong when they put me back together."

"_Those are just excuses. Do you want to go through life with that kind of anger? You hurt Coop."_

"That was an accident!" I protested furiously.

"_Yeah, but at what point does it stop being an accident and start being negligent? Come on, Laura. You-"_

My phone buzzed, shocking me back to reality. Looking up, I saw that someone was ringing me from a local area code, although I didn't recognise the number. Frowning, I answered the call.

"Hello?" I said.

"_Hi,"_ said the voice at the other end. It was extremely familiar, _"Is that Laura Barton?"_

"Speaking," I said, and added, "Hello, Thera."

"_Yeah, hi,"_ he said, _"Look, I'm sorry to have to track you down at home, but you've left your handbag here and I'd imagine you want it back."_

"My handbag?" I blinked, "Are you sure?"

"_I'm looking at it right now," _Thera said, _"Medium size, black material - possibly leather - kind of drab appearance? Probably fashionable during the Age of Steam?"_

"That was a third anniversary present from Clint!"

"_My apologies."_

"I should think so too!" I snapped, and then a thought occurred, "Hold on a second-"

Thera laughed a surprisingly friendly laugh down the phone, and then he said, _"No, it's a lovely bag, and I'm sure that you need whatever's inside it as well so...just swing by whenever. I'll keep it safe."_

"Thanks, Thera," I said, "Actually, I've been trying to get ahold of you myself. Can I ask you something?"

"_Is it about the bag?" _

"No, it's not about the bag."

"_Oh?" _Thera suddenly sounded interested, _"Do go on."_

"It's about my son, Coop," I said, "He-"

"_Hold up, Laura,"_ Thera cut in, _"I'm not comfortable doing paediatrics. That's a pretty specialised area."_

"I understand that," I said, "Look, he...got in a fight today."

"_Oh? How'd he do? Does he take after his mum or his dad?"_

"That's not the point!" I said, "He got in a fight because some kids were saying some things about his Auntie Nat."

"_By 'Auntie Nat' you're referring to the late Agent Romanoff, correct?"_

"Yeah."

"_...Laura, what he needs is a bereavement counsellor," _Thera said, after a pause, _"Which is something I'm spectacularly bad at."_

"I know - and I promise that I'll look for one, but right now he needs to speak to someone who knows our family's...secrets," I said, and plunged on, "I don't know how you know so much about us, and I'll admit it creeps me out a little, but the fact is that you aren't going to be surprised if he tells you about his Auntie Black Widow."

"_True. I'm assuming that he hasn't talked to the school counsellors about this?"_

"He's put off by that, and them trying to be his friend," I said, and then said, "I can't...really imagine you doing that."

"_Also true."_

"Please," I said, "I don't want you to be his therapist or anything like that; I just want him to be able to offload on someone. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was serious."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a long sigh.

"_You know, if this was another family I probably would've told you to make alternative arrangements," _Thera said, wearily, _"But you make a good point regarding your... specific circumstances. Fine; I'll talk to him."_

"Thank you, Thera," I said, sincerely, "I really owe you one. When should I bring him?"

"_Well...there's no time like the present," _he said, with what sounded very much like a shrug, _"You can come pick up this bag of yours at the same time."_

"Are you serious?"

"_Yeah. Somehow, it's clashing with my _entire _room."_

"I mean-" I caught myself, and decided against diving down that particular rabbit hole.

"_My fiancee is stopping by as well, but I'm sure she can amuse herself for bit."_

"As soon as Clint gets back from picking up Nate I'll be right over," I promised, "Thanks again."

"_Yeah, sure. See you later," _he said, and the line went dead.

* * *

Clint returned maybe twenty minutes later, and after a brief catchup regarding my accomplishments I bundled an objecting Coop into the car and set a course for Thera's warehouse.

"There's no point in complaining, young man," I said, after the umpteenth moan from the passenger seat, "You said you would talk to someone if I found someone for you to talk to."

"I didn't think you meant _today_, mom!" Coop protested, "I was going to hang out with my friends!"

"This is more important."

"It's just going to be a waste of time."

"Maybe, but you need to talk to _someone_," I said firmly, "And don't worry; this guy already knows all about your Dad and Auntie Nat and everything else, so you don't need to hide anything from him."

"How does he know all that, mom?"

"I'm...not sure. Right now, it doesn't matter," I said, and nodded at the warehouse as it came into view, "There it is."

"He works out of a warehouse?" Cooper said, "You found a guy who knows everything about Dad and Auntie Nat and he works out of a _warehouse_? Don't you think this is a little suspicious?"

"Dad is looking into it, Coop; don't worry," for now, I decided to leave my personal contributions out of it, "And...try not to be too awkward with Thera, will you? He's only trying to help."

Despite the bright afternoon sun, the warehouse felt that little bit more dangerous this time around. Although I had never seen anyone else even use the parking lot, this time it felt _especially_ empty, and the wind soughing through the abandoned complex seemed to have picked up a warning, mocking edge. Cooper, too, was clearly disquieted by the ominous setting, and the looks he gave me as we got out of the car made it pretty clear what he thought about this whole undertaking. I did my best to ignore his sarcastic mumbling as I led the way around the side of the warehouse, but I felt his eyes burning a hole in my back the entire way.

In contrast to the brilliant outdoors the warehouse lighting was subdued, although the electric lighting was putting up a valiant effort. Again, someone had gone to the trouble of tidying up yet further; more of the shelving had been moved aside and in its place was now a large grid of crash mats, of the sort normally used in judo or aikido classes.

"That's new," I muttered to Cooper, "That wasn't even there this morning."

"Great," he rolled his eyes, "Your therapist starting a dojo?"

"Mind the sarcasm, kiddo. I've half a mind to-"

Exactly _what_ I had half a mind to do died on my lips as the office door creaked open. Even in the comparatively low light levels, Thera's pink beanie was impossible to miss.

"Laura?" he called, "'Thought it was you. Hold on; I'll come down."

Thera emerged from his office and came down the steps two at a time to greet us. Following him was the woman I had seen on the satellite images, and my blood went a little cold as she casually hopped over the railing and dropped silently to the floor. She wasn't obviously armed, but it was just as obvious from the fluid way she moved and carried herself that she didn't _need_ to be.

"Hi, Laura," Thera said. If he had spotted my unease, he clearly chose not to mention it, "I'm afraid you've caught us at a _slightly_ awkward time-" he gestured at the crash mats, "-but it's fine."

"Thanks for agreeing to see us," I said, and nodded towards the approaching woman, "I don't believe we've…"

"Met? No, you wouldn't have done," Thera said, "Laura? This is my fiancee…"

"...Viola," the fiancee supplied helpfully, as she smiled and shook my hand.

"Laura," I said, searching her face carefully for clues. Like Thera, she seemed to go in for strangely coloured contact lenses, and although most of her hair was jet black it was shot through with patches where it was almost completely white.

"Poliosis," Viola said.

"I'm sorry?"

"You were looking at my hair," she said, still smiling, "People want to either touch it or ask why it's got bits of white in it."

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to stare!" I said quickly, and she laughed.

"Please, I'm used to it - and between you and me, I wouldn't change it for the world. I _also_ wouldn't cover up with one of those-" she indicated Thera's beanie with a shudder, "-unlike _some_ people I can name."

"Yeah, okay," Thera rolled his eyes, "Anyway, you didn't come all the way out here to talk about Viola's hair care routine. You came all the way out here for this guy; Cooper, wasn't it?"

"I don't see why you're asking for my name," Cooper said sullenly, "Mom said you already know everything about us."

Viola and Thera exchanged a wry glance, and I could see that she was suddenly struggling to suppress a grin.

"Okay - firstly? You're adorable," Thera said, "I genuinely don't think I've seen such a sorrowful, woe-is-me look on something that wasn't part-Labrador."

"Huh!"

"Secondly, I know that you don't want to be here," he went on, quietly, "And I know that you'd rather be hanging out with your friends, doing...uh, Vi? What do kids 'round here do?"

"Well..." Vi considered this, "Last time I was in town they all seemed to be glued to those miniature televisions. Totally glued; I had to pull one out of the way of a lorry."

"Good thing you were there," Thera remarked, "Now, I've agreed to see you, Cooper, on short notice 'cause quite frankly my evening was otherwise going to consist of being repeatedly bounced off those mats-"

"Its true," Viola said, "He bounces very nicely."

"-_thank you_, Vi," Thera said, "But I also agreed to see you because I hear you've been starting fights - and from looking at you, it's _pretty _clear that you're not winning them."

"I do alright," Coop said defensively.

"You've been _lucky_," Viola said, in a suddenly serious tone, "If you keep on having fights there'll be a point where you'll get a serious injury. Nobody here wants that, Coop."

"So here we are," the therapist said, "And as you've pointed out, I already know a lot about your family's...secrets. I know about 'Auntie Nat', a.k.a. Agent Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a. the 'Black Widow', and I know about your dad being an Avenger."

"So?" Coop said.

"So you can tell me anything, even things that your school counsellors might regard as crazy. It doesn't just have to be about that, either - you can tell me your hopes, dreams, fears, nightmares...believe me, Vi and I have heard it all."

"Oh my, yes," Viola shuddered, "In _excruciating _detail."

"And I promise that no matter what you say, I'm not going to judge you and I'm not going to tell anyone else; not Vi, not your mother. What you tell me will be completely confidential - unless it's an emergency. Does that make sense?"

"Because if it doesn't, then our only alternative is to teach you to _win _fights," Viola said brightly, "Which means that you'll be spending six months at a _minimum_ being bounced off these mats, twice a week. And I don't go easy on my pupils."

"She really doesn't."

There was a long silence, and Cooper stared at the oddly matched couple with a look somewhere between confusion and awe.

"And you promise that you aren't going to try and be my friend?"

"Have I given you any indication that I _want_ to be your friend?" Thera raised an eyebrow, and Cooper shook his head.

"Good - because I'm _not_ your friend," Thera said firmly, "I'm not your mum's friend, I'm not your dad's friend, and until I get fired or opt for the sweet release of death that's the way it's going to stay. Understood?"

"I...guess."

Thera shook his head, "I'm going to need more than a guess, Cooper."

"Okay - yes! Jeez."

"Amazing," Thera said flatly, "We may as well go talk in my office, such as it is. Either your mum or Vi can sit in if you'd like a chaperone, but that's entirely up to you."

"I'll be fine on my own," Cooper said, "I'll see you in a bit, mom."

* * *

Viola and I watched in silence as Thera led my son up to the office, and the door clicked shut behind them.

"Well, that was fun! Bright kid," Viola said, and clapped me lightly across the back, "Drink?"

"You'll think he'll be okay?" I said, after a moment.

"Coop? Sure," she shrugged, "Like I said; bright kid."

"I know...I'm just worried," I admitted, "He's never been the sort to start fights."

"And you are?" an eyebrow went up, "Because I've watched that video maybe twenty times now and your technique is _awful_. You're lucky you didn't break your hand."

"Well," I held up my bandaged hand for her inspection, "I came close."

"So I see," she smiled crookedly, "Anyway, don't worry about Coop. C'mon, let's go and grab a drink; it'd be nice to chat to someone else for a change."

"I thought you were going to train?"

"With whom?" Viola looked around, "My normal training partner is currently talking to your son, and you-" she gave me a quick once over, "-no offence, but I'd be worried I'd break you. Like a china doll."

"I'm stronger than I look!"

"Wouldn't be hard," she snorted, "Coffee?"

With no other real choice, I followed Viola over to a side door, which connected to a large, dimly lit room with several long benches down the middle. In one corner there were signs that someone had tried to make it a little more homey; there was a small fridge, humming away, some breakfast cereal, and what seemed to be a kettle and a coffee machine.

"Was probably a mess hall," Viola said, "Found the coffee machine in a box. Found filters and coffee in town - et _voila_; fresh coffee! How do you take yours? Milk? Sugar?"

"I, um...white, thanks," I said. Her lilting accent and rapid fire speech made keeping up with her difficult. There was a short pause while she busied herself with the drinks, and then I found a cup of coffee skimming down the table towards me. Somehow, I managed to catch it without spilling the coffee all over my dress.

"Sorry," Viola said, apologetically, "Forgot you weren't Thera. That's...it's a game we play."

"It's okay," I said, and took a sip of the coffee. It was much stronger than I was used to, but I wasn't about to complain.

"So…" Viola said, sitting down across from me, "You still time-lagged?"

"Time lagged?"

"You know, writing old dates, things like that?" she said, "I keep having to remind myself that we're five years in the future."

"Yeah, it still doesn't seem quite real, does it."

"What's unreal about two dead women sharing coffee?" Viola smiled, "You'll get there. We both will."  
"I suppose," I said, and added, "Some days it's hard. I just feel…really _angry_ sometimes."

"And?" Viola cocked her head to one side, "What's wrong with that? I'm angry! I mean, for me everything was finally going _right_, and what happens? I get flipping _snuffed_ by some idiot from halfway across the universe because he thinks I'm using up too much oxygen or something. So yeah - I'm angry, and while I've no idea where I've been for the past five years, but I'm pretty sure I spent most of it swearing."

"I suppose."

"You _do_ suppose," she said, and sighed, "Give yourself a break, Laura - we _died_. All of us. That's not something that you traditionally just walk off, and everyone's going to have something or other bottled up inside them. I mean, do I mean, do you genuinely think that your son is picking fights just 'cause dear Auntie Nat bought the farm? Of course not."

"Don't talk about Nat like that!" I said sharply, "She was one of my best friends."

"I'm sorry," she said immediately, and held up a hand, "That was out of order. It's just…well, if I don't laugh at this whole bloody ridiculous situation I'll just end up crying instead."

"It's okay," I said, softly.  
"No, it's not," she said, quite sincerely, "Look, I know how much Romanoff meant to your family, and I was... really sorry to hear about her sacrifice. It wasn't fair."

"Is any of this fair?" I retorted, "For anyone?"

"I'd bet there's _someone _out there who's made out like a bandit over this," Viola said, "But it sure wasn't us."

There was a long, awkward silence while we stared into our respective coffee cups. After a little while, it became clear that I was going to have to make the first move. I coughed, and said, "So, what were you doing when…"

"He snuffed me?" Viola said, "I was just finishing a commission. It was going to pay for the flowers and cake - for our wedding, I mean. 'Next thing I know, I'm flat on my back in a bloody wheat field in _sodding Missouri_ with half a pot of paint on my face. Do you know how much that stuff costs? I must have cut a weeks' pay out of my hair."

"Wait - you moved?" I blinked, "I thought that everyone who Blipped came back exactly where they were killed."

"Guess Thera and I got the 'special treatment', eh?" she said sourly, "Why - what happened to you?"

"'Was having lunch with the family," I said, "Just called everyone over, and _poof_."

"Didn't expect to be a condiment, right?" Viola smirked, and I laughed despite myself. Just then, a thought occurred to me.

"Viola, if you moved during the Blip, that means you could have come from _anywhere_," I said.

"Yup."

"Have you...been able to contact your friends? Your family?"

Her smile froze, and I immediately felt terrible for asking.

"I'm sorry," I said, quickly, "I shouldn't have asked that."

"No...no, it's okay," she said, and turned away for a moment, "And I'm sure _they're_ okay. It's just that I miss them. So much."

"You'll see them again, I'm sure of it," I said, reassuringly, "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so," she said, "But thanks for asking."

"Well, if you think of anything, just tell me. I...well, you _know _I know the Avengers. Maybe one of them-?"

"No! I mean...no, thank you," Viola said, and then said, "Just talking is more than enough."

"But someone like Dr. Strang-"

"We'll _manage_, Laura," she said, in a tone that strongly suggested this line of enquiry was now over, "It's just...waiting is hard."

"It's probably even harder when you're stuck in this warehouse," I said, and then a thought occurred to me, "You said you're an artist, right?"

"Amongst other things, yeah."

"Well...there _is_ an art gallery in one of the towns nearby. It's quite a large one, an-and they sometimes have exhibitions on…"

An eyebrow went up, "Go on."

"Well, I was wondering...if you'd...possibly like to come...with me? We could get coffee?" I said, and added quickly, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"My goodness, Laura. I haven't seen stuttering like that since the first time Thera asked me out!" Viola laughed, "But I'd like that. It would be a nice change of scenery."

"I'm glad," I said, "I...could use a friend."

"Me too," she said, and then sat back on her bench, "You know, I'm surprised you _don't_ have more friends, Laura; you're very easy to talk to. You don't do anything to scare them off, do you?"

"What? No!" I said, "It's just...with Clint's work it's difficult to get to know people. I always kind of feel like I'm hiding something from them."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Besides, it's not too bad. I was an only child so I had to get used to being by myself - and then there's the kids, and the farm…"

"It's okay, Laura; I'm not judging you."

"At least with you I don't have to worry about hiding things. You already know everything!" I laughed briefly, and then fear suddenly gripped my stomach, "Hold on. If you already know everything, then-"

"-yeah, I know about Clint, and his little..._extracurricular_ activities," Viola said, with a slightly disdainful sniff, "Very unprofessional. Still, my lips are sealed. Thera's, too."

"Thank you," I said, sincerely, "But how-"

"I'm not going to reveal my source. I mean, _c'mon_, Laura. But I _can _tell you that that source simply isn't available to anyone who might want to...act on it. You can relax. I've got this covered."

"If you're sure," I said, my nerves subsiding somewhat. She _did_ seem extremely confident in the matter, "But...why? I mean, Thera said he would report-"

"-signs of domestic violence or abuse," Viola said, "What are we going to do with two hundred and seventy three counts of murder? I mean, I might disagree with his methods, and his approach, _and _his technique...but I have no issue with him going to town on organised crime. I'm just worried about the risk of reprisal."

"Apparently he took the necessary precautions, and so did Stark."

"That's...good," Viola looked down at her coffee cup, and her voice dropped almost to a whisper, "We were called out, once, to the aftermath of a reprisal attack. There was...they didn't stop at the adults, Laura, and they took their time. I'll _die _before I see that happen again."

"That's terrible," I said. I could see the tears standing in her eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"Not as sorry as _they _were," she said grimly, "So yeah, we won't go to the police because if we do we may as well just tell the world. And...because I don't want your kids to get hurt."

"Thanks, Viola."

"Vi is fine," she said. Her gaze hadn't shifted from her cup, and I wondered exactly what she was seeing in it.

"Thanks, Vi," I said, "That's not your real name, though - is it."

"No, it's my mother's," she looked up, and gave me a faint smile, "The last thing I wanted was to get lumbered with some stupid sodding name like 'Thera'."

"He asked for it!"

"I know," she snorted, "I told him before you arrived that he needed to pick a sensible name, but he was preoccupied with being mauled by an angry raccoon."

"I heard. You know those things carry rabies, right?"

"Yeah," Viola said, and shrugged, "He'll be fine."

"But-"

"If he starts frothing and biting people, I'll be sure to let you know," she said, and yet again it was clear that line of enquiry was over, "Who knows? Maybe you'll get a discount."

"We...haven't been asked to pay."

"Free coffee, then?" she suggested, and looked at my cup, "No - wait…"

"I had a question, actually," I said suddenly, and nodded at her engagement ring. I hadn't really paid close attention to it before, but it was dark - matte black, actually, with a similarly dark gemstone set flush within the band, "Your ring...it's a little unusual."

"It's tantalum," she said, "Hard-wearing and darkened so I can wear it on the job. I mean I normally wear gloves, but..."

"Clint doesn't wear his band," I said, "Says he's worried it'd give away his position."

"He's not wrong," she said, "Personally, I don't _normally_ have to worry about snipers, but I'd rather not have my engagement ring be either a beacon or an invitation to blow my head off."

"Hmm," I gave it another long look, "Well, you've just given me an idea."

"Really? But aren't you already marri-" Viola stopped suddenly, "Oh, of _course_."

"Yeah."

"Being dead is _such_ a pain."

"Yeah," I smiled, "I mean, I'm not worried about the legalities or anything;I just think it would be a nice gesture."

"Sure; a new world, a new beginning? I could get behind that," she shrugged, "But what do I know? I'm-"

There was a loud knock at the door, and we both turned to see Thera and Coop looking on curiously.

"-well, to be continued," Vi muttered, and then raised her voice, "You done, dear?"

"Yeah," Thera said, "Laura? A word, if you wouldn't mind. Vi...could you look after Coop for a second? Maybe show him some of your gymnastics…?"

"I'm not a performing seal, you know," she grumbled, but stood up regardless.

"Could've fooled me," Thera raised an eyebrow, "Those kids last week? You were _lapping_ it up."  
"Fine, fine. Coffee's in the pot," Vi said, and pinned Coop with a stare, "C'mon Coop. Let's give 'em a bit of space, shall we?"

* * *

Thera watched Vi and Coop vanish out through the door, and then grabbed a cup from the side and quickly filled it with thick, black coffee before coming to sit across from me.

"Bright kid, your kid," he remarked, "Bright future, too - which is more than could be said for any of us two months ago."

"Is he okay?"

"Without going into detail? Yeah, as okay as anyone else, which is an admittedly low bar to clear," he shrugged, "I mean, he's a sensitive lad who suffers from the usual boy thing of not wanting to appear weak in front of others, but that's not exactly unusual. Having another bloke tell you that it's okay to cry can sometimes be...liberating."

"I've - we've never told him that it's not, uh, manly to cry, though."

"Didn't say you had," Thera leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "And I'll freely admit that Clint is more...in touch with his emotions than either his chosen profession or my information would suggest. Still, society puts a lot of weight on guys being stoical and independent, and that's gonna be pretty compelling to a kid; _particularly_ a kid whose Dad just saved the universe."

"So...what did you tell him?"

"In short? The truth," he said, "And that's all I'm saying. I made a promise, and if he thinks I'm breaking it then he won't be open with me. That's not good."

"But he's my son!"  
"Then go and talk to him," Thera shrugged, "You may or may not get anywhere, but that's an entirely separate issue. Anyway, I didn't really want to talk about him. I just wanted to ask _you_ something...just based off a couple of observations I've made."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Have you ever thought about going into counselling?" he said, and quickly held up a hand, "I'm not obviously attempting to tell you how to run your life, but your son mentioned that you'd said similar things to what I did. You also managed to get your husband to open up about Agent Romanov without totally screwing it up, which is not _actually_ all that trivial considering what happened."

"But they're my family. I-"

"I'm not your family," he said, "And you managed to get me to open up as well; I told you an awful lot more than I actually intended to. For whatever reason, you're just a very easy person to talk to, and...I'm pretty sure that you see further than most."

"Vi said the same thing," I said, and watched Thera's eyebrows jump slightly at the word 'Vi', "I just...I don't know."

"If she said that, I'm genuinely impressed," he said, with a crooked smile, "She's normally pretty guarded with people she just met. Look, Laura - again, I'm not telling you to immediately leap up and run to the nearest adult education centre, and it's entirely possible that I'm totally wrong about you. It's just...I don't think I _am_, and I think you may have some serious untapped potential here. You might be able to help a lot of people out."

"Do you really think so?" I said, "I mean - the world doesn't seem to need me _that_ badly-"

"Seriously?" Thera's expression changed from amused to annoyed in almost a blink of an eye, "Are you blind or have you just decided not to look?"

"Well, I-"

"About fifteen miles away from here there's a 'Blip Centre', Laura," he said, "As you might've guessed from the name, it's for people who Blipped and have now lost everything; houses, jobs, relationships. You know what it actually _is_? It's a bunch of container crates stacked on top of each other. In _summer_. There's another four hundred like it across the midwestern USA alone; and the gods only know how many across the rest of the globe."

"Really?" I paused, and then said, "I had no idea."

"Of course not," he said, sardonically, "What was the first thing you did when you got reconstituted? You ran back to your castle, built the walls you'd already built between yourself and the world _even higher, _and then pulled up the drawbridge. You left your husband on the outside, remember?."

"That's not fair!"

"Isn't it?" he said, boring in deeper, "Your world is your family and that farmhouse, and it has been since at least Cooper was born. As long as _that's _all okay, why should Laura Barton be worried about anything else?"

"Are you calling me selfish?"

"I'm calling you insular," he said, "Which isn't that much better, I'll grant you. Still, you realise that but for a roll of the dice, you could've Blipped back to find a new family living in your home and Clint dead at the bottom of a bloody chasm on Vormir. What would you have done then, Laura? How would you have handled being widowed and made homeless in the blink of an eye?"

"Would you stop?" I said, defensively.

"Answer the question."

"Why? That didn't happen!"

"It did for millions across the globe!" he pointed out, "Look, I go to that Blip Centre twice a week to provide medical assistance, but honestly? They don't really need it; what they really _need_ are people who can sit down, have a cup of tea with them, and _listen_."

"Isn't that your department? I thought you were good at listening."

"I'm just one person," Thera said, "You don't ask a grain of sand to hold back the tide."

"No. You get someone like...like Rogers, or his replacement. You know, a _hero_."

"What, you think he can flap his wings and make everything better? That'd be nice," Thera smiled briefly, but then his shoulders dropped and he sighed, "You're right - we need heroes, but we don't need any more people like Wilson, Laura. We have gods, demigods, sorcerers, men in powered armour, super soldiers, weaponised flora and fauna…and what good are they _now?_ How many times has Thor helped set up an emergency relief camp? How many times did Rogers help get the power back on, or the water flowing?"

"That's not their job!"

"Then who's job _is_ it?"

"I...I don't know," I conceded, eventually, "But it's not _mine_."

"Why not?"

"Well...I'm not a hero! I'm just the insular, stay-at-home wife."

"You're selling yourself short, you know," Thera said, with a wry smile, "And you certainly aren't 'just' the insular, stay-at-home wife. Nobody who marries an Avenger and then keeps the bugger's feet on the ground is 'just' _anything_."

"That's very motivational," I said, a little tartly, "Have _you _considered being a therapist?"

"It's a recurring nightmare of mine," he responded blandly, "I think you're in it."

"Clever."

"I try," he said, "But I'm also being quite serious. If we _all_ stand around and declare that getting the power back on isn't _our_ job, the power doesn't get turned back on. Or in this instance, we leave a couple billion hurting individuals to their own, potentially self-destructive devices. Do you seriously think that's going to end well?"

"Okay, so why aren't _you_ doing anything about it?"

"I _am,_" he said, a little irritably, "But like I said before; this isn't about me."

"Then who _is_ it about?"

"Right now? You."

"Oh, come on," I snorted, "Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

"Believe me or don't; it's entirely your choice," he said, "Remember, I go home when my contract finishes. This isn't a long term problem for me. It _may_ be for you."

"Well...you know what, Thera? I _don't_ believe you," I said, and tried to keep the defensive tone out of my voice, "I certainly don't believe that any of this is about me like...like some kind of prophesied chosen one! How ridiculous is that?"

"Thanos chose _himself _to wipe out half the universe," Thera said, "Good thing that was just a ridiculous fantasy, right?"

"Anyway, I _have_ a full time job looking after my family! What about my husband? He really needs me right now."

"Yeah; please keep a lid on that guy," he agreed, "The potential for blowback keeps Vi up at night."

"You see? I can't. I'd _like_ to, but I can't. You'll...have to find another Chosen One."

"And that is _fine_, Laura," he said, and held up both hands, "It's a lot to ask of anyone, and as I said I'm not telling you how to run your life."

"Wait - that's it?" I said, "No hard feelings?"

"No hard feelings," he said, "Anyway; we've probably kept your son waiting long enough, and I have a fiancee who wants to break me in two, so..."

"You're right," I said, and then realised the _other_ reason I had come by, "Oh! I need my bag."

"So you do," he said, and leaned back in his seat, "Vi! Can you go grab Laura's bag for her? Thanks!"

There was a muffled response from the main hall, and Thera grinned nastily in response.

"She'll just be a minute," he said, "Oh - regarding your son? I'm happy to see him again if either you or him want me to. Just make sure that you clean him up next time, would you? I'm _still_ not operating a walk-in centre."

"Ah, yeah," I said, "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he waved it aside, "A friendly warning, though; if he keeps on getting in fights then Vi _will_ start taking a more...active interest. She gets pretty protective at times, particularly where kids are involved."

"So I hear," I said, and got to my feet, "Thanks again for your help, Thera - and I'm sorry that I can't help you out. I'd like to, but…"

"Of course," Thera said, with a mocking little smile, "You're very busy; I quite understand. Look; you've got potential, but how you use it is entirely up to you. Just...think about it for the future, maybe?"

* * *

Coop seemed strangely quiet on the way back to the farmstead, and from the couple of times I glanced over he seemed to be deep in contemplation. Every attempt I made to engage him in conversation was either met with silence or a non-committal grunt, and so after a couple of attempts I gave up and tried to concentrate on the road. My mind, however, had other ideas.

"_He's right, you know,"_ it murmured treacherously, _"So much potential just going to waste. Story of your life, though, eh Laura?"_

"Be quiet," I muttered to myself, "And you sound like my mom."

"_She was a smart woman."_

"She could be a total bitch."

"_Didn't make her wrong, though," _my mind said, _"But still, you're really doing this? You'd rather place your faith in two burn-outs than step up to the plate?"_

"They aren't _that _bad."

"_Oh please - they're a mess, and you _know_ it. Thera's a compulsive fixer with a bad case of compassion fatigue and Vi's a walking pile of unresolved past trauma. Save the world? They can't even save themselves."_

"That seems unfair," I said, "After all they've been through-"

"_Do you _really _buy that story about them Blipping to Missouri? If they did, why did Thera have all those pictures in his room? I don't recall _us _being given the option to Blip with luggage!"_

"You mean-"

"_Either those pictures are fake, or they didn't Blip," _my mind concluded, triumphantly, _"In both cases they're being dishonest. We already know that Thera's whole 'therapist' thing is an act, and Coop is right; why are two individuals with information that only the _Avengers_ should know camping out in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere?"_

"So which are they?" I asked sharply, "Are they dangerous, dishonest criminals living off the grid, or are they a pair of washed-out screw ups who are living a fantasy in a warehouse? You can't have both!"

"_Why not? Desperate people do dangerous things, and we still don't know what this 'contract' Thera keeps referring to actually _is_."_

"Lots of people have contracts."

"_And yet Thera spoke about 'switching targets' earlier. I can only think of one kind of contract that have 'targets', and Vi is clearly ex-police or military or _something_."_

"Maybe Clint will know more when we get home."

"_Maybe," _my inner voice sounded dubious, _"It doesn't matter right now. What matters is that whatever else Thera may be, he's _right_. Why can't you admit that you're scared?"_

"I'm not scared!"

"_You can't lie to me, Laura. I'm _you_. He really got your back up when he pointed out that but for the flip of a coin you could be living in a Blip Centre, didn't he? What scares you most about that? Was it the death of your husband? The uprooting of your family? Or was it that the walls of your safe little world would have come tumbling down in a flash?"_

"...I'm not going to answer that."

My mind laughed, nastily,_ "Yeah, and we both know why. Tell me; what did Laura Barton 1.0 do with her life? Let's be honest; the most interesting thing you ever did was get murdered by an alien maniac."_

"Are you saying I wasted my life?"

"_I'm saying that you wasted your potential. Maybe the reason _you've_ been given a second chance is to correct that mistake. Maybe Laura Barton 2.0 doesn't have to be the insular, stay-at-home wife. _Maybe_ she could even be the heroine. Who knows?"_

"_Now_ you sound like Thera."

"_If I do, that's because you have more in common with him then you'd like to admit."_

Both Coop and I remained quiet for the rest of the journey home, and as soon as we got in he said that he was going up to his room. While I really, _really_ wanted to talk to him about what had gone on between him and Thera, I also knew that it would probably be better to let him come talk to me when I was ready. Instead, I wandered through to the kitchen, where Clint was chopping vegetables so quickly and furiously that it was clear something was up. As I came in, he looked up and gave me a broad, relieved smile that made me feel a little weak at the knees.

"Laura!" he said, "You were...gone a while."

"Hi, hon," I said, and gave him a quick kiss as I went to hang up my bag. "One second; this thing weighs a ton. You've gotten dinner started, I see."

"I...well," Clint looked a little abashed, and I looked suspiciously around the corner to see the better part of a week's supply of carrots, onions, and peppers peeled, chopped and separated into neat little piles, "I...may have overdone it."

"You, um, you don't say," I blinked, "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm okay," he said, and sighed, "I was...I got nervous with you being gone. Sorry."

"That's okay," I said, and touched him gently on the arm, "We haven't had a good salad for ages, and we can freeze the rest for another time. Can you go dig out the olive oil?"

"Sure," he said, and headed over to the larder, "Where's Coop? How did it go?"

"He didn't say," I said, "Thera seemed happy, though - insofar as he's _ever_ seemed happy. Met his fiancee, too."

There was a telltale _'clink'_ and then, "Oh, yeah?"

"She's nice. A little...offbeat, but nice. I'm taking her to see an art exhibition at some point."

"You're not into art," Clint said, and gave me a quizzical look.

"No, but she _is_," I said, "And I think she needs a friend. I can't imagine it's entirely easy only having Thera to talk to."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Laura. I talked to Fury while you were gone…" he trailed off, and looked in the direction of the living room, "...actually, we'll talk about that later."

"Trouble?"

"Maybe," he said, and handed me the olive oil, "It's a bit strange, really."

"Thanks; can you grab the feta from the fridge?"

"Sure," he said. As he passed my bag, he paused and then did a full-on double take, "Laura - why is my phone tap in your bag?"

"Excuse me?" I said, and looked up, "I thought it seemed a bit heavier than normal."

"You didn't check it when you got it back?" Clint looked genuinely surprised, "Laura-"

"Okay! I'm sorry!" I said, "Do you really think they're the sort to-"

"We don't _know_ what sort they are!" he said, in a suddenly forceful tone, "They could have put anything in your bag. There could be _anything_ in here!"

"I don't think so," I said calmly, "Thera tried to recruit me; you don't normally try to kill people you want to recruit!"

"He did _what?_" Clint looked at me sharply, "What did you say?"

"Well, recruit is a strong word - he asked me if I had thought about being a counsellor," I clarified, "And I said...no. I can't; not with anything going on right now."

"Okay," he looked relieved, but only slightly. Carefully, he reached into the bag and retrieved the phone tap. Someone had tied a note to it with an elastic band, but aside from that it looked completely undamaged.

"Nothing else in there?" Clint asked, and I peered carefully into the interior of my bag. Everything else seemed to be in its proper place, and I shook my head in answer, "Good. Let's see what this note says, shall we?"

Moving carefully, Clint cut the elastic band with the tip of a knife, and then picked up the note with the blade and removed it from the phone tap. Apparently satisfied that nothing nasty was about to happen, he unfolded the note and laid it out on the kitchen surface. As it turned out, it was just a couple of lines written in neat, easily readable cursive:

_Roses are red_

_Violets are ace_

_If I see this again_

_I'll shoot you in the face_

_Love, Viola_

_P.S. In deference to Laura, I'll probably actually just shoot you in the groin. I'll even use a rubber round!_

_P.P.S. Learn to read phone line circuit diagrams. You tapped the wrong line._

"So...I guess they worked out who that phone tap belonged to, right?" I said, eventually, "You would've thought they'd have said something when I was there!"

"Why would they when they could play games like this?" Clint said angrily, and he snatched up the piece of paper, "I mean...how smug is this damn note? How-"

"Hold on, hon," I said suddenly, "There's something else written on the back. Look; there's even a picture."

Clint paused, and then flipped the paper over. On the back there was indeed a small, black and white picture of a middle aged, balding man with spectacles. He was wearing a simple button down shirt, with a badge on his lapel that bore the familiar logo of Stark Industries. Next to the photo was written a small list, in the same neat cursive as the note taunting Clint. 'Peter Bulgakov', '#273-001', 'Helix International', 'Blipped', 'One daughter', 'Phoenix'. The last word was both circled and underlined twice.

"Phoenix?" Clint said, a moment later, "That's what was written in that notepad you found. Maybe this Bulgakov guy knows something."

"Or we're just being played."

"You know what? I'm not sure," he said, "It's possible she was in such a rush to flip me off that she didn't check what was on the other side of the paper she grabbed."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No address," Clint ignored me, and turned the paper over again to be sure, "But he _is_ a Stark Industries employee. I bet we could find out where he's living."

"After dinner, and _after_ the kids have gone to bed," I said firmly, "Besides, you need to tell me what you found out from Fury."

"Yeah, sure," he said, and the skin tightened a little around his eyes, "But I'm not sure you're going to like it."


	8. Chapter 8: Storms over Missouri - Part 1

**Chapter Eight: Storms over Missouri, Part One**

While I was generally pretty relaxed about what the family got up to during the day, I had one firm rule; dinner was a communal affair. Even in our secluded little farmstead there was an ever-increasing array of electrical gadgets, and as far as I was concerned there needed to be a period of at _least_ thirty minutes when they were turned off and we properly connected as a family. Coop and Lila might pout, but they weren't going to melt from being off social media for half an hour. Besides, it was important for Clint. While it was clear he was doing his best to avoid smothering the kids, it was _equally_ clear that, if he could, he would spend every second he could beg, borrow, or steal with them. Dinnertime was rapidly becoming the high point of his day, and it showed.

Perhaps that was one reason why I found this particular dinner so trying. As hard as I had tried to ensure that my family had a balanced diet, there was no avoiding the fact that the Bartons were a clan of unrefined carnivores. When I presented the kids with a bowl of carefully arranged Greek salad, lightly drizzled with olive oil and crumbled feta cheese, the collective recoil was the same as if I'd upended a box of Brazilian wandering spiders on the dinner table.

"...because it's good for you, Lila!" I said, for what felt like the umpteenth time, "And it never hurts to have a salad once in a while. Besides, your dad went to all the trouble of preparing the vegetables, so eat up!"

"Aww, mum-" she began, but fell silent under my steady gaze. With a grimace, she returned to pushing the salad disconsolately around her plate. Nate looked at his sister, looked at me, and then quickly followed suit.

"Dad," Coop said suddenly. It was the first thing that he'd said since coming back from Thera's, and his expression was still one of deep contemplation, "Have you ever done anything that you were ashamed of? On the job, I mean."

My stomach lurched, and I looked quickly over at Clint. Our gazes met, and I shook my head ever so slightly. The dinner table was no place to discuss my husband's adventures as a cold blooded serial killer.

"Uh, well...son," Clint said, and coughed, "There have been times I've made a bad call, yeah, or the situation didn't change how we expected it to. There was that whole business with the Sokovia Accords, too."

"But you did what you thought was right!" said Lila, and added, "...didn't you?"

"It's not always that simple," he said, "Both Stark and Rogers were right, in their own way, and nobody was willing to back down. Looking back, if we'd been more willing to work together, then maybe we could've put up a more united front against Thanos, and…"

I reached over and took his hand, "Everything's clearer in the rear view mirror, dear."

"I know," he said, grimly, "But we acted like idiots, and _everyone _paid the price for it. So...yeah, I guess I'm ashamed of that."

"But why didn't anyone else help?" he said, "How can anyone judge you or...or Auntie Nat if they didn't do anything to help?"

"Most people can't do what we do," Clint said, with a hint of pride in his voice, "But you're right; there's plenty of people who would rather look the other way or claim that we didn't need to turn up. Of course, those same people complain even more when we _don't _turn up, so you just have to learn to ignore them."

"There's some people on the radio who're saying that bringing us back was wrong!" Lila piped up, "They say that the Avengers shouldn't have just made that decision by themselves, and, and…"

"Some people _are_ going to think that."

"But why?" Lila objected, "Aren't they happy that we're back?"

"_I_ am, honey, and so are lots of other people," Clint smiled, "But...five years is a long time, and four billion people is a _lot_ of people. Once people get used to the fact that their loved ones have come home, they're going to have to think about other things."

"Things?"

"Like jobs. Like water. Like food," my husband said, "In Europe I hear they've started rationing already. It'll probably happen here in a couple of months. The animals might have blipped back, but nobody's sure what's going to happen with the harvest. Global warming might be back on the agenda as well. There's probably a load of little things that we didn't consider when we set out to bring everyone back, but you can bet that we'll be blamed for each and every one of them."

"So was bringing us back the right thing to do?" Coop said, "I mean-"

"It was," Clint said, with finality, "The world might be in a mess now, but you didn't see how grey and...lifeless it was during the past five years. It was like...everyone was just a bunch of zombies, going through the motions. I know _I_ was."

"But those things-"

"Can all be fixed, with time and the right people," he said, "You can't fix being dead, and you guys deserve the chance to show that we made the right decision."

"_I have to say, Laura, we're off to a flying start,"_ my mind said, _"Your stance of 'go away, I'm busy' is just the kind of go get'em attitude this brave new world needs!'_

"So, Coop," I said suddenly, eager to quieten that treacherous little voice, "Is this what Thera asked you to think about? How was your session?"

"It was fine, I guess," he shrugged, "He didn't talk very much."

"Oh?"

"He just kinda asked me about how I was doing - y'know, about us Blipping and everything, and then he got me talking about the times Auntie Nat came to visit and what we used to do together that was special to _me_," Coop paused, and then looked a little embarrassed, "And, uh, why that was less important than...um...'Some bloody third hand gossip spouted by random idiots in the street'."

"Yeah, that sounds like Thera," Clint's eyes narrowed, "Professional to the end. He's right, though."

"It was just...she really _did_ do some of those things that they said she did, didn't she?" Coop said, "You know. Bad things."

"For good reasons," Clint said, and then added, "Most of the time. You might discover later that the intelligence was bad, or the situation changed in ways that nobody could've predicted. Sometimes you just plain screw up."

"So what do you do then?"

"Remember what went wrong and do better next time," my husband said, "And don't second guess yourself. Like your mom said, everything's clearer in the rear view mirror, but if you keep beating yourself up over old operations then you'll just end up going mad. Your Auntie Nat did a very difficult job and she did it well, but she didn't always win. _Couldn't_ always win."

"That's kinda what Thera said. He also said...well…"

"Well what?" Clint asked, intently.

"He... said that I had great parents, a loving family, and that Auntie Nat's greatest gift was bringing us all back together again," he paused, and his voice cracked ever so slightly as he said, "_That's_ what we should remember her for."

Clint and I exchanged a long, solemn look, and then I turned back to Coop and said, "We will, dear. I guess the question is how _you _want to remember her."

"Let's put together a scrapbook!" Lila said, excitedly, "I can cut out some shapes, and we can stick 'em all around the photos, and...and-"

"I...guess we could do that," Coop said, a little noncommittally.

"Yay!"

"I'll get those photos printed out, then," I promised, "Coop - Thera has said that he'd be okay with seeing you again if you wanted to. Is that...something you'd want?"

"I suppose," he said, even more noncommittally.

"Good - and no more fights, you hear?" I said sternly, "Otherwise I'll let Viola make good on her promise to teach you."

"Hold on," Clint said suddenly, "What am I? Chopped liver?"

"You might be tempted to go easy on him," I pointed out, "Considering how eager Thera was to get out of practice, I'm pretty sure she doesn't know how."

* * *

The rest of dinner finished in a slightly awkward silence, as my kids tried to eat the bare minimum of their salad under my watchful, and possibly slightly baleful gaze. Once they were done, there was just the simple matter of making sure they got washed up, brushed their teeth, changed into their pajamas, tidied their rooms, switched off their mobile phones, finished their homework and (in the case of Nate) had a bedtime story. By the time I had kissed the last one goodnight and staggered back downstairs the kitchen was sparkling clean and the dishwasher and washing machine were both going at full tilt. Even better, there was a freshly opened bottle of beer sitting on the counter, a trail of condensate drifting lazily away from its open mouth.

"Thanks, hon," I called.

"No problem," his voice echoed from the living room, and I followed it through to find him relaxing on the couch, beer in hand and book to one side. I plopped down beside him and clinked my beer bottle against his.

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

"Tough crowd tonight, eh?" I sighed, and leaned up against him, "Honestly, you would've thought that _dying _would've taught them the importance of good nutrition."

"I thought it was a great salad."

"You would," I said, "You made it. And enough for the next two weeks."

"Well, yeah," he said, and looked a little abashed again, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, Clint. Don't apologise," I said, and turned to look him directly in the eye, "I understand why you got scared. It's just...it's going to take time until you let yourself believe that we're really back for good."

"Yeah," he admitted, "Sometimes it still feels like I'm dreaming - because I've _had_ more dreams like this than I can count. They always ended with me waking up."

"Not this time, buster. I'm afraid you're stuck with us," I said, and kissed him quickly on the lips, "But if you ever start to feel nervous again, then let me know and I'll find you something else to do. Like chop more wood."

"Vegetables are easier."

"Yeah, but if we keep serving the kids salad we'll have a riot on our hands," I flipped back over and snuggled down against his side, "Bunch of savages. I bet they got that from _your _side."

"'Like your side is much better."

"True," I rolled my eyes, "But look at us 'great parents' now. We've come a long way since your circus days and...what was I doing when I met you? Socialite? Archaeologist? Brain surgeon?"

"Waitress, but I'm sure you fought crime on the side," Clint said, and took a swig of his beer, "But you've just reminded me - I was going to tell you what Fury found out."

"Oh yeah?" I said, and my stomach tightened ever so slightly, "What?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" I said, "Wait - that's _it_? So they're clean?"

"No - I mean _nothing_. There's nothing about either of them," he paused, and then said, "Look; almost everyone has something. You've got bank account statements, your passport, the water bill_,_ and there's probably CCTV records from whenever we go to St. Louis. Those two? Nope."

"Yeah, but they're operating out of a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, under fake names, and don't really seem to move around that much. Why wouldn't they be beneath the radar?"

"With accents like those?" Clint snorted, "C'mon - London is one of the most heavily surveilled cities on the planet; if they went there, the chances of them _not_ being picked up is slim to none."

"Yeah, but Thera said he wasn't British."

"And I'm not sure we should just take his word for it."

"Okay - but we don't have a picture of him. How did you get one over to Fury?"

"Oh, I just gave Fury the coordinates of their warehouse and let him worry about that. He can access the satellites just as well as us, and I'm not about to tell him that we've got one of Starks' old toys."

"And he found nothing."

"Nothing," Clint confirmed, "And if the most paranoid man in the world can't find anything with all _his _connections? That means that there's nothing to find, which ain't good. There's something else as well."

"What's that?"

"Fury was contacted by Doctor Strange."

"That sorcerer from TV? The one who can see the future?"

"_Could_ see the future," Clint replied, "Turns out, he's kind of been in charge of protecting the Earth against the kind of things that you can't just blow to pieces. You know, like if someone opens a portal to the Tentacle Dimension."

"Don't tell me that we're about to be knee deep in tentacles," I said sharply, "I'm only just getting over being dead for the past five years."

"It'd be news to me too, hon," he said, "No - apparently their outfit can pick up mystical ripples or..._something_, around the globe. You know, like an early warning system, but for wizards."

"Okay."

"Well, when the Blip happened the entire system went nuts - probably couldn't handle all of you guys popping back into existence, but it's been settling down ever since. Last week, it got quiet enough that they've been able to tell there's something going on in Missouri."

"The ripples haven't died down?"

"It's not that - its like...well, Fury described it as mystical active camouflage. Like a cloaking device-"

"But for wizards - yeah, I get the idea."

"The trouble is, it covers half the state - and its _good_. It almost perfectly matches the 'background flux' - whatever they mean by that," he shrugged, "They only spotted it because they were following up on a completely different anomaly."

"And what are you - we - meant to do about that?"

"Nothing, really," Clint said, "It's not our circus. Fury just mentioned it because I was reporting about our _own_ problems in Missouri."

"So what does he want us to do about Thera and Vi?"

"Again - nothing," he said, "If I'm being honest, he seemed a little..._off_. Possibly even a bit overwhelmed."

"Did he Blip?"

"Yeah, but this is _Fury_ we're talking about! He's a force of nature; being disintegrated should've just made him mad," he sighed, "Remember that job I was telling you about? He hasn't nailed down the details on that, either."

"Really?"

"Really. If I didn't know better, I'd say this was his first week on the job."

"Well...what _I'm_ hearing is that we don't need to worry about Thera and Vi, we don't need to worry about Strange, and we can have a nice quiet evening in together," I snuggled down a little deeper, "Those're orders I can follow."

"There _is_ that Bulkagov guy-"

"-who can wait until tomorrow," I said, "Now shut up and relax."

"...I guess," Clint said, with an adorable little smile, "I wonder what's on TV?"

* * *

Tuesday dawned cold and blustery, and it took some effort to rouse the kids and get them moving before the bus came down the lane. Shortly thereafter, Clint left to drop Nate off at school while I set up Stark's old equipment. By the time he returned, I had set it all up and was busy searching for information on Peter Bulkagov. Although there wasn't a huge amount, what _was_ there was...interesting.

After a little while, I heard the crunch of tyres outside and then the front door clicked open.

"Find anything?" Clint called.

"Come and see!" I said, a little excitedly. It had taken a little doing, but I had managed to arrange the windows so that Bulkagov's portrait took pride of place over the television, with the relevant information spread around it in what I thought was an easy-to-digest format.

"Pretty," my husband remarked, as he came into the living room.

"You're not so bad yourself," I said, and shot him a wry smile. He rolled his eyes in response and indicated the carefully-arranged data.

"'See you've been working hard," he said, "What's the story?"

"It's a bit of a sad one," I said, "Back before the Blip, he was an IT manager for this company called Helix International over near Springfield."

"I thought he worked for Stark Industries?"

"They're a wholly owned subsidiary," I said, "_Anyway_, he and his wife had a nice big house in the suburbs and the typical middle class lifestyle - you know, two cars, a couple of cats, daughter went to a nice school, did ballet and played the violin - etcetera and so on."

"Then the Snap..."

"Yeah, while he was driving to work. His car was involved in a massive pileup that included a fuel truck...and they had no way of telling whether or not he'd been turned to dust by Thanos or by a raging inferno," I sighed, "I guess until last month it didn't make a whole lot of difference either way."

"It does now."

"Yeah - he got lucky, if you can call it that," I said, "His widow packed up, sold the home, and moved back with their daughter to her dad's in New Jersey. Meanwhile, Helix International found themselves a new IT manager to replace Bulkagov, so…"

"He blipped back to the side of an interstate with no job, no home, and no family?"

"That's about right. He got packed off to a Blip Centre not far from here, and he's been there ever since."

"That's...tough," Clint said, and a hint of guilt flickered across his face, "We didn't mean for that to happen."

"I know, Clint," I said, kindly, "Besides, this one could still have a happy ending! Like you, his wife stayed faithful to his memory and she's been trying to get in touch with him. It's just that…"

"About one hundred fifty million people are trying exactly the same thing and most of the people who Blipped have no identification?"

"Yeah," I said, and pointed towards the final window, "Interestingly, someone _else_ seems to have tipped her off to his specific location. It doesn't say who, though."

"No…" Clint looked at the data, and then gave me a quizzical look, "Some of this information looks like its been added by hand - recently, too. Does it say who added it?"

"I actually checked the edit history," I said, "It's been wiped clean."

"Kind of suspicious, don't you think?" my husband rubbed his chin, "We have a man who seems to have drawn the _personal _attention of Thera's fiancee, and then you find his life's story written up on Stark's private intelligence network with the edit history deleted. I didn't even know you _could_ do that."

"You don't think that they-"

"-at this point I don't know _what_ to think, hon," Clint said, "But...the odds are pretty good that if he's gotten their attention, he may have gotten the attention of some other groups as well."

"Well, we _could_ go and see him," I said, "The Blip Centre's only about twenty miles away - in fact, I think this is the one that Thera said he helped out at."

"Um..."

"He only helps out there twice a week, Clint," I added, "I'm pretty sure we won't run into him."

"That's a relief," my husband grinned, "But still-"

"Look, hon, there's a chance here we might be able to get ahead of the game!" I said earnestly, "So far, we've just been reacting to whatever bits of information we've been able to get, but if this Bulkagov guy can come up with the goods, then maybe…"

"It's a bit of a leap, but Fury isn't being much help and we don't have anything else to go on," Clint said, and appeared to reach a decision, "Okay, let's pack this up and get over there ASAP. I'm going to go and get my bow."

"Are you expecting trouble?"

"I _always_ expect trouble," he said, and winced, "Sorry; that sounded less corny in my head."

"I'm not sure how."

"Hah," he snorted, "But seriously? This guy seems to have the attention of some unusual people, so...I'd feel safer if I had my bow."

"Well, it turned out you were right about Thera and Vi," I said, "So go and get yourself tooled up..._Hawkeye_. We have work to do."

"Mmm," Clint considered this, and winced again, "I bet that sounded less corny in _your_ head, didn't it."

"Oh, be quiet."

* * *

From a distance, the Blip Centre was a forbidding place. As Thera had said, it basically amounted to a collection of shipping containers that had been rapidly converted to make them 'livable'. Even under a weak sun they still glimmered and shimmered, and I shuddered inwardly as I thought about how blisteringly hot they would be come summer. The entire complex was surrounded by two rings of chain link fence, with the only access being through an airlock consisting of two heavy-set steel gates. As we approached, the outermost gate groaned open and an ambulance came hurtling past in a blaze of red light and noise. We watched it go in silence.

"Pleasant place," Clint remarked, eventually, "Heavily fortified, too."

"Yeah - what's with all the defences?" I frowned, "Was this an old barracks?"

"The Army wouldn't house its soldiers like this," he said, darkly, "What are they doing here?"

"We'll be able to ask them soon enough," I said, indicating the intercom set into the side of the road, "Reckon they'll want to let us in?"

"Let me do the talking," Clint said, confidently, "If the military are running this place, then my name should carry some weight. I'm sure they'll let us in, though - I mean, they aren't keeping people locked up in here - right?"

"Thera seemed to be able to come and go."

"I suppose - on the other hand, where would anyone go _to_?" my husband looked around, "Without a car…"

"True. I wonder if that's deliberate or if they're just using what they had available. Anyway-" I said, and pulled up in front of the intercom, "You're up, _Hawkeye_."

"Roger that," he said, and leaned across me to press the button on the intercom, "Um - hello?"

There was a long pause, and I gave him a slightly incredulous look. Before I could comment, however, there was a loud squawk from the roadside speaker.

"_Hello?" _said the speaker. It sounded like a slightly harassed young man, _"May I help you?"_

"Yes," Clint said, "My name is Clint Barton - Hawkeye? I'm an Avenger; I'm here to see, um, Peter…"

"Bulkagov," I supplied, quietly.

"Bulkagov!" he continued, "I understand he's currently being held here?"

"_Nobody is being _held _here, sir,"_ the young man said wearily, _"I'll open the gates for you. Please park up outside reception and sign in. Someone will be with you shortly."_

There was a 'clunk' as the intercom went dead, and the automatic gate sprung to life with a metallic shriek. I carefully nosed the car into the airlock and watched nervously as the gate ground shut behind us. A moment later, the inner gate slid open, revealing a hastily built 'reception' consisting of a pair of mobile offices placed side by side and flanked by another pair of heavy set gates, which I assumed gave access to the Centre proper. Next to the offices was a small row of empty parking spaces, marked out roughly with white paint on the dirt. I gave Clint a quick look, shrugged, and pulled up in the nearest space.

"Well, here we are," I said, killing the engine, "You sure that bringing your bow along is a good idea?"

"Well, if I'm going to be 'Hawkeye', then I kind of need it," he said, "I mean, without it, how will they know who I am?"

"Is that _really _necessary?" I said, "I mean, he didn't exactly seem eager for your autograph - and they let us in anyway."

"Okay - then call it a hunch."

"Fine," I sighed, and climbed out of the car, "I'll go sign us in. You go get yourself geared up. Grab my coat, too!"

Unsurprisingly, the reception's interior was as ramshackle and hastily built as the exterior. A simple MDF counter divided the room down the middle, littered with forms and pens, and a bored-looking young man sat at a computer on the other side. On the walls there were a collection of pinboards, to which were attached various notices including invitations to group meetings and events within the Blip Centre. Aside from a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs, the rest of the room was bare.

"Hello, ma'am," the man said, and nodded at one of the many forms strewn across the desk, "If you could sign in, I'll make sure a chaperone will be along shortly."

"A chaperone?" I frowned, but picked up a pen regardless, "Why would I need a chaperone?"

"New orders from the top," he sighed, "We have children on site, and unless you have a criminal record chec-"

From somewhere behind the man, there was the sound of a door opening and a blast of cold air shot through reception, causing forms and notices to flutter alike. A moment later it slammed shut, and an immediately recognisable and extremely British voice echoed through the building.

"-just find out exactly what happened, okay?" it said, and sighed, "I'm not looking to blame her, but I _did_ warn everyone that if those medicines weren't under better control then we'd end up having an incident. For now, if anyone needs so much as an ibuprofen they can bloody well come and get the key from myself or Summers, understood?"

"Sir," another voice said. It sounded tired.

"And find out who was with her, would you? We need to make sure that they're...as okay as they're going to be. This place isn't exactly helping anyone's mental state, and the last thing we want is this whole mess to flippin' snowball. Did you get a response from Central?"

"Yes sir, and...no sir."

"Naturally," Thera said, sardonically, "Well, keep trying. Also; you ever read 'Lord of the Flies'? Hunter kept on talking about it, and I had no idea what he was going on about."

"I'll get you a copy, sir," the other voice said, "Will that be all?"

"Um...well," Thera's voice was now approaching reception, "We've apparently just had a couple of unscheduled visitors, and I was wondering if…"

Thera rounded the corner, and he stopped dead as he spotted me at the counter. From the subtle tightening in his eyes, I guessed he wasn't entirely happy to see me.

"...you know what? Never mind," he called back, "Go get some sleep, mate."

"Sir."

There was a long, awkward silence while Thera and I regarded one another - long enough, certainly, for me to clock that he looked absolutely _awful_. From the shadows under his eyes to his generally wilted demeanour, it was pretty clear that he hadn't slept at all last night. His clothes were wrinkled and stained with a mixture of rain, dirt, and what appeared to be blood, and he was now sporting a bandage that covered the entire length of his right forearm. Interestingly, he had changed his contact lenses to a brilliant emerald green, and although they were a vast improvement on his previous two choices, they did little to detract from the overall picture of exhaustion and general dishevelment.

"Laura," he said, in a rather cool tone, "We have _got_ to find you something more productive to do. Clearly you have too much free time on your hands."

"My goodness, Thera," I said, "What happened to you? Are you okay?"

"I'm hanging in there," he said. The receptionist caught my eye and shook his head very slightly, "We've had a bit of a rough night here."

"What happened to your arm?"

"There was a...very _spirited _discussion about the rules of knife ownership," he said, and indicated his bandage, "I picked up _this _little beauty attempting to stop a poor woman from...well, it doesn't matter. Better me than her, anyway."

"Shouldn't you see a doctor?" I asked, and he gave me a flat look, "Sorry - I mean..._another _doctor."

"Sure; let me know when one becomes available and I'll do just that," he said, and there was now an edge of frustration in his voice, "Although considering it took them five hours to get an ambulance out here for a woman who was _actively_ attempting to kill herself, I'm not sure that we're particularly high on the list of priorities."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, no kidding," he said, through gritted teeth, "Anyway, Laura. Why are _you _here?"

"Clint and I-"

"Clint's here too? _Wonderful_."

"Yeah," I said, and mentally braced myself, "He's just getting his bow ou-"

"His _bow?"_ Thera blinked, and made a visible effort to compose himself, "Why would he need his fu-goddamned bow _here_? This is a Blip Centre, not...not…"

"The Thunderdome?" the receptionist supplied.

"Thank you, Kostas," he said, "I mean, I have no idea what _that _is, but - a _bow? _We don't allow firearms on site!"

"Well...technically a bow isn't a firearm," I pointed out, "And-"

"A trebuchet isn't a firearm either, Laura!" Thera all but shouted, "That doesn't mean I'm going to be okay if he starts wheeling one through the gates! Are you two _insane_?"

"I, uh-"

"Kostas, please tell me that I've fallen asleep and that this is some ridiculous nightmare."

"No, sir," the receptionist said, but added hopefully, "But perhaps you should get some rest. I'm sure I can handle-"

"I'll sleep when I'm dead, mate," Thera said icily, "In fact - that's exactly what I _was_ doing before a ragtag bunch of misfits hit the universal snooze button. Who knew that being _alive _would be the millstone around my neck, eh?"

The door behind me clicked open, and Clint poked his head around the corner. He was holding my coat in his hands, which he quickly passed to me before taking in the scene.

"Is everything okay in here?" he said, "I thought I heard shouting and- oh, Thera. You're...here."

"Not by _choice_, believe me."

"And you look like hell."

"So I hear," Thera said acidly, "I also hear that you're packing...what's that term - oh yes, '_heat_'. Did you miss the sign regarding the banning of firearms on site?"

"Well, a bow isn't _really_-"

"Oh my..._goodness_!" Thera clenched his hands, closed his eyes, and took a long, shuddering breath. A moment later, he pinned my husband with a look, "Okay...as you're an Avenger, I _suppose _that you can be trusted not to mishandle your equipment, and I'm really too tired to have a debate over the legal status of that bow. You can bring it in."

"Than-"

"But if there's even _one_ incident -just one!- they will be picking you out of these containers for _years _to come. When archaeologists turn up here in a couple of centuries time, they'll be finding random little bits of your teeth and will wonder what happened to the poor soul who they originally belonged to. Do I make myself absolutely, positively, one hundred percent _crystal clear?_"

There was another long, shocked silence, and Kostas gave us both an apologetic look.

"Crystal, Thera," Clint said. Amazingly, he had a wry smile on his face, "You can calm down. I'm not gonna shoot anyone."

"Glad to hear it," Thera said curtly, "Now, why _are_ you here?"

"We came to check up on a friend."

"I'm touched. Really."

My husband snorted, "No. His name is Peter Bulkagov. We just discovered he was being held at this Blip Centre."

"As I told you, _sir_, nobody is being held here," Kostas said.

"C'mon, mate," Thera rolled his eyes, "We've got a bunch of people living behind two reinforced steel gates with nowhere to go in the local vicinity. I know that they're not _really_ being held here - but they kind of _are _at the same time. At least, y'know, until their loved ones come and pick 'em up. Anyways...you two know Peter?"

"Not that well," Clint said, smoothly, "But when we found out he was here we thought we should swing by and say hello. Be a friendly face."

"Mmm," Thera gave us a tired look, "That's very...sociable of you. Okay, give me a second to find his address and I'll take you to him. Kostas? I know you're due a break but would you mind-"

"Not at all," Kostas replied, "As long as you promise to go and get some rest."

"No promises," Thera sighed, "But if you can ask everyone to just sit very still in their housing and not touch anything for the next twenty minutes, _maybe_ I'll be able to catch up on my sleep."

* * *

Thera vanished into the back room, and there was the sound of rustling paper before he re-emerged with something written on the back of his hand. With a curt gesture he indicated us to follow him, and we walked through a set of offices and what appeared to be a large conference room before emerging in a large patch of gravel, empty aside from some benches and a small playground. Arranged around the supposed meeting area, in a semi-circular fashion, were rows of the hastily converted shipping containers stacked two high, stretching off into the misty gloom in all directions.

Despite the worsening weather, there were still a large number of people out and about, although the sense I got was that they were out and about because they didn't really have anything to actually _do_. Some were milling around aimlessly, while others were reading, checking their phones or talking in small groups. Despite the hubbub of activity, the general atmosphere was one of purposelessness and almost overwhelming boredom. All these people were trapped in a government-enforced limbo, and they knew it.

"_Just think, Laura. Any one of these people could have been you,"_ my mind pointed out, and I felt a wrench deep inside, _"That girl on the swing could be Lila, the tall kid lounging in the shadows over _there_ could be Cooper, and...Nate might be that kid playing over there in the dirt."_

"Blip Centre 43," Thera said, indicating the rows and rows of containers with an ironically grand gesture, "Known by its inhabitants as 'the Blippiest Place on Earth', although if that's a joke I'm not sure I get it."

"It's terrible," Clint said, "How can the government leave people like this?"

"Because you dropped about one hundred and fifty million people in their lap with no advance warning?" Thera said bluntly, and I saw guilt flicker once again across Clint's face, "I mean, we're talking about enough people to fill New York City almost fifteen times over, and they all need to be sheltered, fed, treated, _and_ identified. It's a colossal undertaking."

"So how many people are there _here?_"

"Two thousand, give or take. All sorts, too; we've got entire families, parts of families, couples, lone adults, the estranged and widowed, sibling groups and lone children," he took a deep breath, "The kids are the worst part, really; we know that _some _of their parents are out there looking for them, but others…? They might have died during the Blip, or they just don't care. You see them over there?" I looked over towards where Thera was gesturing, and saw a dozen hopeful pairs of eyes staring back at me, "Every day, they're hoping that their parents will come and take them away - and almost every day they're disappointed."

"That's rough," Clint said.

"Try heartbreaking," Thera said, with a slight catch in his voice, _"Anyway…"_

He set off through the crowd of people towards one of the rows of containers, leaving us to trail behind. Almost immediately, people began to converge on the exhausted therapist, and in a flash he was buried under a throng of concerned citizenry, all waving their hands and shouting for his attention.

"_Hey - Thera! Is Manny okay? How about Jacinta?"_

"_Thera! What happened to Flora?"_

"_Is your arm okay? Are you bleeding?"_

"_The toilets are backing up again!"_

"_Have you heard anything about my daughter?"_

"_When are we getting-"_

"Guys? Guys! _Guys!_" Thera shouted, from somewhere deep within the pile, "Manny and Jacinta are _fine;_ they're just recovering in the infirmary. As soon as I hear anything relevant about Flora I'll be sure to let you know. I only got slightly nicked by that knife, and...if the toilets are backing up? Either unclog them yourself or contact the front desk! I'm not a bloody plumber!"

"_And my daughter?"_

"If I hear anything I promise you'll be the first to know!" he said, probably more sharply than he intended, "Vi is searching high and low, as I'm sure you're aware - but this is a big country, and everyone's looking for everyone else. It's just going to take time!"

"_But what about-"_

"I'd love to help, Vince, but right now I'm _really_ busy," Thera continued, "I have to escort these two to go see Mr. Bulkagov, and I'm betting that by the time I get back there will be a small mountain of forms to fill out over last night's..._festivities._ If there's any information for you, Kostas will have it. Okay? Grand."

The scrum scattered as Thera pushed his way clear and stalked off towards the containers. Clint strode confidently after him, ignoring the collective, accusatory stares of the assembled inmates, and at that exact moment I was extremely glad that he _had_ decided to bring his bow along.

"_Thera's total ass when he's tired, isn't he," _I muttered to Clint, who gave me a wry smile in response.

"_Give him a break, hon; it looks like he's had a rough night-" _he nodded at the therapist's bandaged arm as an example,_ "-and it kind of looks like these guys are looking to him to solve all their problems. That's a lot of pressure for one guy to be under."_

"_That doesn't seem fair."_

"_Hah," _Clint snorted, _"From what we know of the guy he probably demanded to be in this position. Still, it's interesting to see that even our superior, haughty friend's got a breaking point. Kind of humanizing, doncha think?"_

"_I suppose,"_ I conceded, _"I'm surprised you're defending him, though."_

"_Well…"_ my husband scratched at his chin, _"In his own way, he _is_ stepping up. I don't have to _like _him, but I can respect the effort."_

"_Where's the Army, though? It kind of looks like these people have been dumped here and just left to their own devices."_

"_It does kinda, doesn't it," _Clint said, darkly, _"Maybe I'll take that up with Fury. He might be able to get some more support."_

Big, fat drops of rain began to fall from the sky, kicking up puffs of dirt as they slammed headlong into the ground. They were only spitting for now, but a quick look at the clouds overhead showed that there were likely to be a whole load more on the way in fairly short order. Thera gave the deteriorating weather a look of disgust and shook his head.

"Bloody weather," he said, "I'm sure that they said it was going to be clear skies yesterday. 'Should've brought an umbrella with me."

"I'm surprised they were caught out," I said, "I mean, storms in Missouri are no joke. It's tornado season, too."

"Lucky us," Thera said grimly, "Do they get big 'round here?"

"A mile across? We _are_ inTornado Alley, Thera."

"Is that so? Well, something like that _would_ just round off a perfect day, but I don't think we're going to be that lucky…" he yawned, "Bloody hell, I'm _knackered_."

"Yeah - what _happened_ here last night?" I said, "I mean, we left your warehouse-"

"-and about twenty minutes later my phone was ringing off the hook," Thera said, "A woman left the medicine cabinet open and two of our younger, more curious guests mistook some paracetamol for sweets. Don't ask me why they did, or even how they got into the bottle - but they scoffed half of them before anyone realised what was going on."

"My god."

"Anyway, I came hurtling down here on my bike and I'm _pretty _sure I managed to treat them before they suffered any permanent liver damage-" he waved his hand back towards the main complex, "-I mean, I've got them in the infirmary at the moment for observation, but I'm sure they're fine. Unfortunately, it was just one thing too many for the woman who accidentally left the lock off, and…"

"That's where you got that knife wound from," Clint said.

"Yeah. Who knew that disarming someone failing around blindly with a knife would be such an inexact science?" Thera said, with a glassy smile. A moment later, the smile became a sigh, "It took the ambulance five hours to turn up. Five hours! She didn't get any better that whole time. It was…I can't begin to describe it. It was _bad_."

"No wonder you're exhausted," my husband said, in a surprisingly sympathetic tone of voice, "She's alive, though, thanks to you."

"I know, but..." the therapist said, and then shook his head, "You know what? You didn't come here to listen to me whine - you came here to see Paul."

"Peter."

"Exactly. Well-" Thera pointed up at a set of apparently innocuous white numbers, stencilled onto the side of one of the units, "This is his street. Let's go see if he's in."

With that, Thera turned into a row of containers that looked basically identical to the others that had come before. The 'street' in question was a wide dirt avenue, over which loomed stacks of converted containers on three sides, which deprived the area of natural light and cast it into a perpetual gloom lit only by the harsh electric light spilling from a few container windows. A low, mournful wind soughed through the metal stairs and kicked up eddies in the dirt, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end.

"This doesn't look friendly," Clint said tensely. Somewhere the distance a door banged shut, and it was all I could do to avoid jumping clean out of my skin, "Where _is_ everyone?"

"Getting in out of the storm," Thera said, and nodded at a shadowy figure scurrying down the street, "You know, like smart people. Maybe Bulkagov'll be nice and let you ride it out in his unit."

"Which is his, then?"

"Um…" Thera consulted his hand, "Third on the right, second floor. In fact, that one right up _there_."

I followed his finger to an otherwise nondescript, red-painted unit, accessible by a simple metal spiral staircase. The lights were out, but in the darkness I thought I could make out a faint glimmer coming from somewhere deep inside.

"Is he in?" Clint said, a little dubiously. Thera shrugged in response.

"Won't know 'till we knock," he said, and started towards the staircase, "Besides, it'd be a little silly for you two to have come all this way and risk getting drenched just to go home _now_, right?"

"I suppose it wou- wait, who's that?" my husband stopped suddenly as Bulkagov's door squeaked open and a man stepped out into the rain. Despite the gloom it was clearly _not_ our man; this person was tall and wiry, with a full head of blonde hair. His face was sharp and angular, and on the bridge of his nose were perched a pair of darkened Lennon glasses. He was wearing a dark brown leather trench coat, with a thick hood that he drew up over his head as he came down the stairs.

"Don't know," Thera muttered, "Don't recognise him."

"I thought you knew _everyone _here."

"Whatever gave you that idea? I just know the more vociferous ones. Still-" he stepped towards the bottom of the stairs and waited for the man to get close to the bottom before saying, "Alright, mate? How's it going?"

There was a gasp and spray of water as the man first jumped, and then fought to maintain his balance on the staircase. Once he had regained his balance, he fixed Thera with a look that made me shiver.

"What were you trying to do?" he said angrily, "Were you trying to _make_ me slip down the stairs?"

"Sorry," the therapist said, contritely, "You, um, you've been visiting Bulkagov, I see."

"Don't see what business that is of yours," the man grunted, "But yeah, he's an old friend of mine."

"Wonderful. I'm just bringing my...um…_associates_ here to see him," Thera said, "I mean, we were wondering if he was in, but it seems pretty clear that he _is_, so…"

"He said he was going to sleep," the man said shortly, "I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"That's a pity. What's your name, by the way?"

"Caleb," the man said, "Caleb Johnson."

"Nice to meet you," Thera said, and snapped his fingers, "I think I recognise the name - Row A, right?"

There was an ominous rumble from on high, and Clint and I looked up to see a sheet of lightning coursing through the clouds.

"Right," Caleb agreed, "And I'd like to get back there before this storm really gets goin', so if you wouldn't mind-"

"Oh - of course," he stepped back to let him down the stairs. Caleb gave him another chilly look, but obviously decided not to say anything else as he pushed past us towards the main complex. The shivers in my spine intensified, along with the unshakeable feeling that there was something very _wrong_ here.

"Sorry - hold on a moment," I said suddenly, before I knew what I was doing. Caleb fixed me with the same baleful stare he had given Thera, and I felt Clint stirring a little uneasily beside me, "Caleb, was it?"

"That's my name, yeah."

"Laura," I said, and decided to try something, "You said you were an old friend of _Paul's_, right?"

"Pe-" Clint began, but stopped as I stamped lightly on his foot.

"Yeah," Caleb said, "I mean, we used to play together as kids, y'know, but I haven't seen him since he moved away. After we Blipped - well, us Blippies have to stick together, right?"

"Right," I said firmly, "I mean, you blink and suddenly you're five years in the future, you're living out of a shoebox, and the toilets are backing up! I mean, what gives?"

"Uh, right," Caleb said, a little uncomfortably, "I really have to be-"

"Going? Of course - I'm just complaining," I said, and gave him my most winning smile, "Just...did he say anything about his _son_? Has he heard anything about _him_?"

"No," the man said, "He ain't heard nothing about his son."

For just a moment Thera's eyes were as wide as saucers, and when he spoke it was in a tone of excessive calm, "Oh. That's a...pity. I was hoping for better news."

"I know," Caleb shrugged, "But what can you- hey!"

Thera had made a break for the stairwell, and in a flash was leaping up the slick metal steps two at a time. Caleb's hand flashed beneath his coat, and came out holding a heavy-looking pistol that glimmered evilly in the rain. He fired twice at the ascending figure, and then Thera vanished underneath another blinding flash of lightning, followed an instant later by its deafening report. Robbed of his original target, the man turned to face us with a snarl, but as he brought the pistol to bear Clint's bowstring _twanged_ beside me, and the gun was whipped from Caleb's hand and pinned to a nearby container by a still-quivering arrow.

"Shit!" Caleb cried, and doubled over clutching at his injured limb, "Shit - you son of a-"

"Be quiet," Clint said, coolly, "You okay up there, Thera?"

"Oh, I'm just fine," an acidic comment came from on high, "Thank you for letting him shoot at me twice - you really can't get that buzz anywhere else. Let me just get the door, and-"

The door clicked open. For just an instant Thera seemed to freeze in time, and then his expression changed to one of abject horror and he collapsed to the floor, clutching desperately at the handrail for support.

"Goddess…" he murmured, just loud enough to be heard.

"Thera?" I called up, feeling a deep, cold ball of fear crystallise in the pit of my stomach, "Thera, what's going on up there?"

There was no response, but when I strained I could just about make out him whispering _'count to four, count to four, count to four, count to four...'_, over and over again like a soothing mantra.

"What have you done, Caleb?" Clint said. His voice was calm, but firm, "What did you do to Peter?"

"Why don't you go and look?" the man sneered.

"Why don't I just shoot you in the knee?" Clint said, drawing back on his bow, "You know what? I think I'm going to do that anywa-"

Caleb straightened suddenly, and suddenly I saw in his hand a collection of small pearlescent beads. With a smooth flick he hurled them at my husband, and there was a sudden _crack_ of electricity and the smell of burned flesh filled the air. Clint dropped like a sack of cement, arrows scattering from his quiver as his half-drawn bow shot uselessly off into the dark.

"Clint!" I screamed, catching him before his head hit the floor. I quickly felt for a pulse and found one before I turned on Caleb, "You-"

"What?" he regarded me with a lecherous smile, "What are _you _going to do about this, girl? No big, strong archer to back you up now, and your friend up there looks to have checked out admirin' my handiwork. Tell you what; on account of the fact that you're a lady, I'll be merciful and make this quick."

"_He's got a point, Laura," _my mind said, as Caleb advanced with murder in his eyes, _"What _are_ you going to do about this? Being choked to death in the dirt isn't very Laura Barton 2.0, is it."_

Lowering Clint gently to the floor, I stepped back into a low crouch. My heart was pounding in my ears, and my hands scrabbled in the dirt for something -_anything_\- that would be of use.

"_If you ask me, this fate seems more appropriate for Laura Barton 1.0."_

"Be quiet," I murmured, "I'm trying to think."

"_That's all you used to do, wasn't it? Think. Never act. Always hide."_

"Be _quiet_," I said again, more authoritatively this time.

"_Totally typical. You weren't there for Clint when he was suffering these past five years, and now you're here? You aren't here for _him_."_

"Be-!"

"_He's down, Thera's babbling inanely, and you? You're about as much use as a chocolate fireguard. What are you going to _do, _Laura_?_"_

Caleb lunged with an expression of unsettling joy on his face, and as his fingers locked around my throat and _squeezed,_ my fingers locked around a long, sharp object on the ground. Without a second thought, I bunched up my arm and drove it into his side as hard as I could. My would-be murderer howled in pain and wrenched the blood-stained arrow from my grasp, but before he could recover I drove my knee into his groin as hard as I could before staggering back to protect Clint.

"_That's_ what I'm going to do," I choked, and massaged my neck. There was going to be bruising there for sure, "I don't care who you are. You stay the _hell_ away from my husband."

"You…" Caleb growled, all pretence at civility gone, "You _little-_"

With surprising speed, he grabbed my shoulders and headbutted me. There was a _crack_ and stars exploded in my eyes but raw, righteous anger steadied my gaze and as he drew back for a second strike I slammed my head into the bridge of his nose with as much force as I could muster. Blood spurted, and he stumbled backwards to his feet, clutching at his face and side.

A door nearby banged open, and someone poked their head around the corner.

"What's happening out here?" a shrill voice echoed across the yard. As if on cue, a flash of lightning lit up the awful scene and the woman screamed in terror. There was the heavy tread of boots on wood, and then another door opened, and another, and suddenly the street was awash with light as the air filled with cries of alarm from concerned onlookers.

"Help my husband!" I wheezed, as I staggered to my feet, "And call an ambulance! Bulkagov's- hey, you _get back here!_"

Suddenly faced with an entire street's worth of opponents, Caleb had clearly decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Despite his injuries, he was already half-running, half limping into the stormy gloom, and so I grabbed another one of Clint's arrows and set off in pursuit. By now, the rain had churned the dirt to mud, and my boots slapped wetly on the ground as I slipped and skidded towards my prey.

I had never been the fastest runner; hell, I had never been much for anything athletic, but I flew onwards on wings formed from pure adrenaline and raw, animalistic rage. I hurtled after him as he crossed the now-empty meeting area and entered another row of containers. Like Bulkagov's 'street', this was another cul-de-sac, and from the way he gave a start I realised that he had made a mistake.

"No way out now, you bastard!" I yelled, and with a cry of exertion tackled him to the ground, sending us sprawling through the mud as a tangled mess of limbs. While he struggled to regain his footing, I hung on and fought like a woman possessed, raining blows down on him with hands, elbows, knees, and feet. He was bigger than me and stronger than me, and I knew my survival hinged on him not being able to-

-a hand lashed out and grabbed my mud-slicked hair. There was another flash of lightning, and in that instant I saw a victorious, sadistic smile on his face. He yanked down hard, and pain ripped across my scalp as I fell. I twisted and managed to avoid hitting the ground head first, but the impact still knocked the wind from me and I lay there, gasping for breath as he climbed slowly to his feet.

"You crazy...psycho..._bitch!_" he spat, and gingerly touched the gash in his side, "Look what you've done! What did I ever do to you, _hey_?"

"I…you…" I rasped, fighting for breath.

"Ooh, you're gonna regret this," he went on, "You're gonna regret this for the rest of your goddamn life. I'm going to do to you what I did to that snitch Bulkagov, only I'm gonna do it _slowly_ like, so you can watch."

Moving slowly, he stooped and collected the arrow that I had dropped when I tackled him, and then knelt down near my head.

"You see, darling, I'm gonna take this here arrow and carve out those big, brown eyes of yours, and then I'm gonna make sure they find you so that _everybody _knows what it means to cross Keame!"

The arrowhead sparkled in the rain, sharp and deadly.

"That doctor friend of yours? When he finds you, he's gonna just _di-_"

There was barely a warning, just a flicker of light in the sky - but it was enough. As lightning reduced the world to a brilliant white haze, I rolled over, grabbed the shaft still sticking out of Caleb's side and _twisted_. His roar of agony was drowned out by the thunder, and as he doubled over I snatched the arrow from his grasp, took his hand by the wrist, and hammered the tip home with a yell. There was a sickening crunch of bone, an ear-splitting shriek, and then the man went limp.

The world suddenly seemed very quiet, and as the adrenaline slowly drained away I realised how cold, dirty, and _tired_ I was. With some difficulty, I got to my feet and regarded Caleb with disgust.

"_You know, this would be the ideal time for a one-liner," _my brain suggested.

"He's not worth it," I said coldly, and settled for a sharp kick to the ribs. He whimpered, and curled up into the foetal position, protectively cradling his ruined hand.

"Laura? _Laura?_" a voice echoed off the nearby containers, and a moment later Clint came around the corner with a small mob of Blip Centre inmates. His bow was drawn and ready, and his expression was a strange mix of concern and murderous intent, "Oh, thank God you're okay."

"Well…I…"

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, running off like that?" Clint said angrily, "He could have hurt you! He could have...he…"

"He hurt _you_!" I said, suddenly on the defensive, "I couldn't let him get away with that. I couldn't…"

I faltered as I saw the tears forming in Clint's eyes, and suddenly a sob forced its way to the surface, "I'm…sorry, I..."

"Oh, _honey,_" he said, and caught me in a rough embrace as the tears flowed freely, "I didn't mean to shout - I was just so _scared _when you ran after him, and…"

"I got him, though," I said, with a cold smile, "_Nobody_ hurts my husband and gets away with it."

"Duly noted," Clint said, regarding the slightly mangled man with some amazement, "I still can't work out if you're insanely brave or just insane. I just can't wait to tell Fury about this."

"What, the day I beat an Avenger to their man?"

"Okay...maybe I _won't _tell Fury about this," Clint smiled, "He might end up recruiting you instead. You still did better than myself and Thera, that's for sure."

"Hah!" I said, and then gave a start, "Thera! What happened to him? He was just...I don't know _what_ he was doing."

"Well, whatever he was doing, he shook it off shortly after you left," my husband said, "He's with Bulkagov now; said he was going to barricade the door in case Caleb had any other helpers around."

"Did someone call an ambulance?" I asked, and right on cue, there was the sound of sirens in the distance, "Okay, never mind. So...what are we going to do with Caleb here?"

"What do you think we're going to do?" Clint said, and his expression turned distinctly chilly, "We're going to take him inside. We're going to clean him up, treat those wounds, and then we're going to find out _exactly_ what he knows."


	9. Chapter 9: Storms over Missouri - Part 2

**Chapter 9: Storms over Missouri: Part Two**

I was cold, I was tired, and I _ached_. I looked the Creature from the Black Lagoon after a bad night out. What I needed was a shower, a change of clothes, and a nice stiff drink, but the little voice inside was telling me that there were more important things than worrying about chiselling off all this mud. For a start, I _had_ to find out what had happened to poor Bulgakov. Given Thera's horrified reaction and Caleb's threats I had a pretty good idea what had happened, but part of me just needed to _know_.

Clint, for his part, seemed to be more concerned with the handling of my would-be experimental optometrist. Although neither of the injuries I had inflicted were _immediately_ life threatening, shock, blood loss and infection were all still possibilities, and my husband was clearly not willing to let the man pass out until some answers were forthcoming.

"Can you go find Thera, hon?" he said, as he roughly hauled the quietly sobbing Caleb to his feet, "These arrows need to come out ASAP, and I don't think he'd be particularly happy if I did it."

"At this point? He'd probably go nuclear," I said, and gave the man another disgusted look, "What're you going to do with him?"

"Like I said, I'm going to toss him in the shower, get these arrows removed, and then chain him to the strongest thing I can find until he starts singing."

"Find out what he knows about someone called 'Keame'," I said, "I think they might be his boss."

"Keame? Simon Keame? Are you _sure_?" Clint said, and I nodded, "That's not possible."

"Why not?"

"He was murdered in his bathroom last year."

"Oh?" I caught his intent look, _"Oh_ \- right."

"He was a monster - a total sociopath," my husband went on, "'Ruled by fear and violence, and was up to his neck in just about anything you could care to name. The worse it was, the more he was involved."

"Good riddance, then," I said, and a faint smile flickered across Clint's face, "But that doesn't explain why Caleb here was out for Bulgakov. Settling an old score?"

"What, from before the Blip?" Clint gave the man a hard look, "It's possible, I guess...I mean, I don't know, but we ain't going to learn anything by standing here guessing."

"Yeah. I'll go see how Thera's doing and bring him back to the reception building. Once you've gotten him chained down can you get my spare clothes out the car? I'm pretty sure this outfit's done for."

"Will do," my husband said, "I didn't bring you back just to have you die of hypothermia!"

With a 'hah!' I squelched off through the mud back to Bulgakov's unit. The rain continued to hammer down, while lightning rent the otherwise night-black air with a flash and a vicious _crack_. I was no stranger to Missouri storms, but this one was brutal even by state standards, and the ominous moaning and creaking of the containers around me did little to calm the shivers running down my spine.

In the distance, the brilliant red lights of the ambulance parked in the street made for a blinding beacon, and a forest of chattering umbrellas was beginning to form around the paramedics as they dragged a stretcher out of the back. As I approached, the unit door creaked open and Thera emerged, arm in arm with a balding, rather dumpy middle-aged man. All over his arms and legs pieces of cloth had been pressed into service as makeshift bandages, and a long, grey scarf had been wrapped tightly around his eyes and scalp. Rather strangely, or possibly in accordance with Thera being Thera, he was still wearing his glasses, perched precariously on his exposed ears.

The hubbub died, and was replaced with a grim silence as Thera and Bulkagov began to make their way down the spiral staircase. Thera moved slowly and carefully, apparently uncaring of the torrential downpour, and his expression was one of tender concern as he gently helped Bulgakov navigate the slick metal down to the waiting arms of the paramedics. They got to work with a brisk professionalism, and strapped him into the stretcher while the therapist continued to hold his hand and murmur gentle encouragement. There was a brief exchange between Thera and the paramedics, during which Thera shook his head once, and then Bulgakov vanished into the back of the ambulance. With a sudden blare of sirens and a spray of mud, it rumbled off into the storm and was soon lost to view.

Once it was clear that the show was over the umbrellas, and their owners, quickly dispersed and went back to their nice, dry units. Within moments, the street was empty again barring myself and Thera, who was staring off after the ambulance with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Thera?" I said, "Thera!"

When he didn't respond I touched him lightly on the shoulder, and jumped back as he returned to reality with a sudden start.

"Sodding hel-!" he exclaimed, and then there was a spark of recognition, "Ah, Laura. Sorry, I was miles away."

"With Bulgakov, I'd expect. Is he-"

"He'll be fine," Thera said curtly, "Good as new. Possibly better."

"Really?" I said dubiously, "C'mon, you don't expect me to believe that."

"To be frank? I don't really care if you do or don't," he said bluntly, "Right now we have more immediate things to worry about, like getting out of this storm and finding a change of clothes."

"_He's deflecting,"_ said my little inner voice, and for once I agreed,_ "I'm not even sure he's aware he's doing it."_

"C'mon, you can use the staff showers," he said, and gestured for me to follow him, "And I'm sure I can rustle you up some spare clothes. It might not be the latest fashion, but it'd be _dry_, at least."

"I have some spare clothes in the car. Anyway, Clint-"

"Oh, even better. I'll also get you an ice pack and some high-strength anti-inflammatories," he must have seen my puzzled expression through the mud, because he then added, "For your neck."

"My neck? It doesn't hurt."

"It will," he said, with an ominous level of confidence, "Don't think I didn't see your little headbutting competition with our torturer friend."

"I didn't think you were seeing much of _anything_," I responded, "You seemed pretty out of it."

"...yeah."

"What you saw must have been pretty bad. I thought you'd seen it all."

Thera was silent for a long time, and when he spoke his voice was thick and unsteady, "Torture is a...it's a _special_ kind of horrible, Laura. I mean, I've seen people burned, cut to ribbons, exploded - even half digested, but that's by _accident_. For someone to actually go and carefully, _clinically_ inflict those kinds of wounds on someone…I...it's..."

He broke off, and even in the heavy rain I could see tears welling in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, sincerely, "You shouldn't have had to deal with that."

"No, _I'm_ sorry," he replied, and wiped a hand across his face, "I've been a complete arse to you and Clint ever since you arrived. If you hadn't turned up, and if Clint hadn't bought his bow then that...that _gentleman_ would've tortured Bulgakov to death right under my nose and we all could've been shot to death in the street. So - sorry, and, y'know, thanks."

"Thanks?" I raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"Well, I'm fresh out of medals," he said, "But I could have Vi draw you one."

"I'll pass - but where is she, anyway?"  
"Busy," Thera said, simply, "It's too bad. If she'd been here Caleb wouldn't have gotten away."

"He _didn't_ get away," I said, "I got him!"

"I'm sorry - _what_?" he paused, and looked at me with a mixture of surprise and respect, "You. You stopped the crazy man with the holdout handcannon and those electric stunballs?"

"I hammered an arrow through his hand," I said, and then added, "What, you didn't think I couldn't do it?"

"What, go up against a reasonably big guy with violent tendencies and combat experience and live to tell the tale?" he raised an eyebrow, "I mean, I've been the underdog in more match-ups than I care to count, but that guy was out for blood and you're a fairly small woman who's own fighting experience extends to playground punch-ups. That doesn't make for great odds."

"Hey, I have experience!"

"What you get up to with Clint doesn't count, for obvious reasons," Thera said flatly, "But I'll admit, I _am_ impressed. Just please don't do it again."

"I didn't want to do it the first time!" I protested, "It just happened!"

"Yeah, 'it just happened' is something I've heard far, _far_ too often," he said, "Anyway, if you've _really_ hammered an arrow through his hand-"

"-which I have-"

"-then I'd better go get my things. I'm sure you've got some questions to ask him, and in my experience people tend to talk more when they're still conscious."

* * *

After everything that had happened a simple warm shower was paradise, and I could feel the cold leach from my bones as the mud swirled down the plughole. As warmth returned, though, my muscles began to signal their displeasure and a dull, throbbing ache began to spread through my body. My shoulders screamed for attention as I gingerly worked clods of silt and slop out of my knotted hair; from the feel of it, I was lucky if I was going to be able to move tomorrow at _all_.

By the time I emerged into the Spartan offices, fully clothed and with a towel wrapped around my head, Clint was waiting with a steaming cup of coffee. He had also changed; while before he was wearing clothes that could just about be described as 'casual', he was now wearing his full 'Hawkeye' gear; matte black and cut just _so_ show off his athletic physique. When he saw me his face broke open into a warm smile, and I felt a sudden rush of dizziness that probably had nothing to do with my accumulated blunt head trauma.

"Would you like to take a picture?" he said, with a rather self-satisfied smile.

"I'm burning all your string vests, Clint," I said firmly, as he handed me my coffee, "There's no way I'm having you slouching around the house in those when _this _is available. It's not fair. It's not _right_."

"I'll tell you what's not right," Thera said, as he slipped past me carrying a gently fizzing tumbler filled with water, which he set down on a nearby coffee table, "It's you drooling all over my nice clean floor."

"I'm not drooling!"

"Uh-huh, and I'm not mopping up after you _or _wiping all those condensed pheromones off the glass. _Any_way-" he reached into his pocket and produced a small pack of pills, "These're for you; take one now and then one every four hours. I've found a box of ice packs that you can take home as well - just make sure you wrap 'em in a towel before you use them."

"Oh," I said, and took the proffered medicine, "Thanks, Thera."

"No worries. In a couple of days you might find that a warm bath'll help with the pain. Maybe Commando Clint here-" he nodded at my besuited husband, "-can give you a neck massage as well."

"That would be nice," I said, and gave Clint an aside glance, "You haven't given me a neck massage in over five years."

"In fairness to him, you haven't had a _neck_," Thera said tartly, "I'd say a gentle massage for thirty minutes should do the trick, but I'm not sure that you two have that kind of self-discipline. At least _try_ to get the pain down before the debauchery gets underway, okay?"

"No promises," my husband said with a wry grin. Thera rolled his eyes in response..

"Any more of this and I'll have you two separated and spayed," he said with a smile, "Now, Clint, I believe you had something that you wanted to share with the class?"

"Oh, yeah-" Clint dug around in his shirt pocket for a moment, and produced a phone, a piece of rather sodden scrap paper, and a rather dented, mysterious object that looked like a silver crocus with a broken brown bulb in the centre. He set all three down on the table and stepped back.

"The paper's got something written on it," he said, "Kinda hard to tell, but it looks like a number. Two hundred and seventy three? Eight? Not sure."

"Does that mean anything to either of you?" Thera asked curiously. Clint and I exchanged a glance and shook our heads, although I did have a feeling I'd seen it somewhere before.

"Is it Bulgakov's unit number?" Clint said, and the therapist shook his head.

"Wrong format; those have letters at the start," he said, "Look; just keep it in mind. He obviously wrote it down for a reason."

"Sure - anyway; what's that thing?" I asked, pointing at the busted crocus.

"It _looks_ like Stark tech," my husband said, "He developed something called the 'Wide Area Active Acoustic Dampener', but we just used to call it the 'Muffler'. No prizes for guessing what it does."

"It makes things quiet?"

"It soundproofs an entire room. Completely," he said, "Great if you want to talk without anyone eavesdropping on you...or if you want to do something without anyone around you knowing."

"I guess that would explain why nobody came to help Bulgakov," Thera said, "He was gagged when I got there, but...the kinds of things Caleb did to him aren't things you can keep quiet."

"That's better than people hearing and not caring, though," I said, "I mean, this device..."

"Yeah," Clint said, "It was always a pretty handy tool to have on an op."

"Stark's tech always is, though, isn't it. It's the answer to bloody everything!" Thera laughed bitterly, "'How do you fight an Asgardian one-on-one?' Stark tech! 'How did a self-aware robot almost shatter the planet?' Stark tech! 'How could a two bit thug torture someone half to death right under my _bloody _nose?' Sodding-Stark-_sodding-_tech! Did it never occur to him to take a day off?"

There was a sudden _crack_ of lightning, and the lights in the staff room flickered and hummed before settling down once again.

"If he had, you and Laura wouldn't be here now," Clint said, eventually.

"I know that!"

"And you can't blame him for people misusing his tech."

"Except that it happens _all the sodding time!_" Thera snapped, "Half his career seems to have been putting down inventions that have gone haywire or...or terrorists wreaking havoc with his tech! At what point does he become wilfully negligent?"

"Beats me," Clint gave the wild-eyed man a wary look, "I'm not a lawyer."

"Okay, so let's try something simpler. How many of these Muffler things are there out there?"

"I don't know! We only had one."

"Yeah, but you said that this _looks_ like Stark tech," Thera said intently, "Therefore, it isn't _actually_ Stark tech, right?"

In that instant, Clint looked like he could have kicked himself, "...right."

"So we can therefore conclude that someone _else_ is producing these, possibly copying a stolen blueprint or one that Stark donated to a charity shop!" he said, "How do we know that what happened to Bulgakov isn't playing out across Missouri - or even the United States?"

"That seems pretty unlikely."

"Is it, though? How do you _know?_" Thera's words were tumbling out one after the other in a half-babble, "We could have another victim here on site right now and we wouldn't have a bloody clue! How do we know that Bulgakov was the only one that Caleb visited? How-"

"Enough, Thera," I said, kindly but firmly, "Caleb torturing Bulgakov was terrible - don't let him torture you as well. You've done everything you can. We _all_ have."

"It's just...we can't let this happen again. I can't let…" the therapist fell silent, his face etched with pain and anxiety. Clint and I exchanged a worried look.

"_You have to admit, he's not exactly the poster-child for his own cause,"_ my inner voice said, harshly, _"If stepping up turns you into an exhausted, fragile burn-out jumping at shadows, I think we'll pass."_

"It _won't _happen again," I said reassuringly, and forced myself to ignore the dark little whisper, "We'll make sure of it."

"Yeah," Clint agreed, although he shot me a look that just _screamed_ 'what are you getting us into here?', "We've Caleb - but we've also got his phone. If we can trick him into unlocking it, then we'll know a whole lot more about who he is, who he's working for, and how he came by this Muffler. Got it?"

Thera nodded, silently.

"But so's we can do that, we're gonna need you to remove those arrows. That's all you need to do, Thera. Remove those arrows. Can you do that?"

"...yeah," Thera nodded again, more determined this time, "Yeah, I can. Just give me five minutes to grab my stuff and...compose myself, and we'll be in business."

* * *

Caleb, it had to be said, didn't look a whole lot better than when I had last seen him. While Clint and his little posse had cleaned him up as best they were able, there wasn't much they could do beyond rinse the mud off and provide basic first aid He had been stripped to the waist and someone had wrapped bandages around the arrows embedded in his hand and his side. In the cold, harsh light of the Blip Centre offices his injuries seemed far worse than they did out in the rain, and I felt a pang of regret as I saw rich, red blood slowly begin to seep through the gauze.

"Like what you see, Brown Eyes?" Caleb sneered, as Clint hauled him roughly to a chair and forced him to sit. He was sweating profusely, and his complexion had become an unhealthy pallor, "These are _your _fault, you crazy bitch."

"My _name _is Laura," I said coldly, "Maybe you should remember it."

"Oh, I'll be _sure_ to," he said, with a nasty chuckle, "Every night, I'll be thinkin' of you, and what I'm going to do to you when I finally track you down and make you _pay_. You got kids, Laura?"

"Strong words, coming from you," I snorted, partly to hide the chill running up my spine, "What do you think the sentence is for torturing someone? Ten years? Twenty?"

Caleb's chuckle was low and unpleasant, "Do ya _really_ think I'll be goin' to prison, _Laura_? This ain't even gonna reach a courthouse!"

"You got that right," Clint said. The tone was level, but threat dripped from every syllable, "Keep this up and you won't even reach the front gate."

"If you were goin' to kill me, you would've done it outside. You _want_ something from me, and I..._want_ something from you."

"Is it my eyeballs? 'Cause I'm starting to see a pattern here."

"Why did you torture Bulgakov?" I cut in. The man paused, and then his mouth broke open into a chilling smile.

"For fun," he said simply, "His face annoyed me, so I improved it."

"Yeah, right," I said, "I mean, I'm sure you _did_ do it for fun, but there had to be a reason you picked _him_."

"Not sayin'," Caleb said, "And there's nothing you can do that'll _make _me talk. I know my rights, and by the time my lawyer's through with you two you'll be begging me to just take your eyes!"

"You're confident, aren't you?" my husband said, "I reckon you must work for someone pretty powerful to think you can just skip out on _torturing _someone. There's also _this_ little thing-" he held up the Muffler for Caleb's inspection, "-which isn't something you see every day. Someone gave you a target, gave you the tools, and then just turned you loose, didn't they?"

"And what if they did?"

"Well, I reckon we should think about this," Clint said, casually, and then he started slowly circling the seated man, "Laura?"

"Yeah?"

"Imagine you're a crime lord - a real piece of scum. The kind who'd demand that a nobody like Bulgakov'd be tortured to death just 'cause you wanted to make an example of him. You got that?"

"Got it."

"Now, let's say that you send someone like Caleb here. You get him some fancy tech that you've stolen from Stark Industries, you send him into the Blip Centre to go cut up ol' Pete...but oh, no," Clint gave Caleb a shocked look, "He got caught! Not only did he get caught, but he got the tar beaten out of him by some random passerby! That's _pretty_ embarrassing, isn't it?"

Caleb gave Clint a hateful look, "You shut up, you-"

"What d'ya think about this, Crime Lord Laura? How're you feeling?"

"Well…" I surveyed Caleb with a disgusted eye, "I'd be pretty angry - I mean, I _am_ angry!"

"Damn right you are," Clint agreed, "Thanks to _this_ idiot, you've now got the police _and_ the FBI breathing down your neck, and you've got to do a ton of stuff just to be sure that nobody connects you to that whole torturing business. That's a lot of paperwork!"

"I _hate _paperwork!" I said angrily, "You can never find a pen when you need one, and-"

"It's worse than that!" Clint said quickly, "Now you look like a weak fool to all your crime lord buddies. Oh, sure, they're all friendly when you meet them at the fundraisers, but you can bet that they'll be looking for any sign of weakness in your organisation so they can start clipping off little bits and pieces for themselves. This guy could cost you everything!"

"Goddamnit!" I shouted, and both Clint and Caleb jumped as I slammed my hands down on the table, "This is simply _unacceptable!_ I'm not going to stand here and have _my_ empire taken away by that damn governess at the PTA meeting!"

"Well…" even my husband seemed slightly taken aback at my outburst, "Luckily, we can fix this."

"Oh, you'd better," I said, and gave him an evil look, "You'd better make this whole damn problem go away, because if I'm being kicked off the school fete committee then you can be damn sure that I'm taking you down with me!"

"But you aren't _on_-"

"_Clint!"_ I stepped forwards threateningly, and they both drew back as one.

"It's going to be fine, babe," Clint said quickly, "Y'see, Caleb here's right when he said this ain't ever going to reach a courthouse. Don't worry; when the police come and take him away, the next thing you'll hear is that he hung himself in his cell with his arms tied behind his back."

"You're...you're wrong!" Caleb burst out, "Reggie ain't like that!"

"Oh, he isn't, is he?" I said, coldly, "'Cause I've been a crime lord for all of two minutes and your failure's _already_ making my blood boil. You say Reggie 'ain't like that'? I'm a stay-at-home mom and I just hammered a _goddamn arrow_ through your hand 'cause you pissed me off! Believe me, mister-" I grabbed Caleb by the shoulder, and pulled him so close our noses were almost touching, "-when he discovers that you haven't killed Bulgakov, being hung in a police cell is going to be the least of your problems!"

There was a cough from behind me, and I turned to see Thera surveying the scene with a perplexed expression. Clearly, taking five minutes out to compose himself had worked wonders, although his eyes were now slightly red and puffy. He was carrying a small leather satchel, in which I assumed was all the stuff he needed to work his magic.

"From the novels left 'round my hospital, I'm pretty sure that being hung in a police cell is the subject of quite a large number of fantasies," he said, "You probably mean 'hanged'."

"There's a difference?"

"Only if you finished secondary education," he said, and gave me a rather irritating little smile, "That aside, I see you've managed to get acquainted with our little interloper. But...well, whenever you're ready."

"Oh, um - yeah," I said, and stepped back to join Clint, who put his arm protectively across my shoulders.

"Alright then, Caleb," Thera said, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, "You already know who I am, so we can dispense with the introductions."

"Yeah," the man said, his defiant tone back in full force, "You're that hippy dippy limey doctor who's always volunteering for shit."

Clint snorted, and when I glanced at him he gave me a look that screamed 'I told you so'. Neither Thera nor Caleb seemed to notice.

"Close enough," said Thera, "Well-"

"Where's that woman who's always clinging to you?" Caleb went on, "You know, the one with the skunk hair?"

"She's busy, but I'll be sure to let her know you sent your regards. Now, would you like me to get these arrows out or not?"

"Yeah, go on," Caleb said, and gave me a long, lecherous look, "The sooner I get better, the sooner Brown Eyes over there an' I can get...better acquainted."

"Of course you can, mate," Thera shook his head wearily, before handing him the still-fizzing drink that he had prepared earlier, "Drink up."

"What, you think I _won't_?" Caleb challenged, "When I'm better, you'd better just pray to God that I don't decide to come for you as well!"

"If you want to come for me, I'm afraid you'll have to take a number," Thera said, "And I don't pray to a god; I pray to a goddess. Now _drink up_."

Caleb regarded the drink with some suspicion, "What's in this, anyway? You're trying to poison me, aren't you."

"What? No!" Thera's eyes flashed with sudden anger, "That would be against my vows! That's _actually _a potent painkiller - you know, for the pain that you're clearly in."

"Yeah, right."

"If you don't believe me, you don't _have_ to drink it, but-" Thera nodded at the arrow embedded in Caleb's side, "-if you want those arrows out, it'd probably be a good idea. Your choice."

The torturer stared at the drink, and then back at Thera.

"You know what? I _will_ drink it," he said, and took a big gulp of the fizzing fluid, "'Cause I want to. An' then after you've treated me, I'll be coming for those glorious emeralds of yours. I've never seen a pair quite like 'em."

"You still haven't; these are contacts," Thera said curtly. Working quickly, he opened his satchel and pulled out a piece of white cloth which he placed on a nearby table. Scalpels, tweezers, and other more complicated instruments soon followed, and Caleb's face turned even more pale as he stared at the small forest of sharp, steel objects arrayed before him.

"Recognise some of these? You probably should," the therapist said, and there was an unmistakable chill in his voice, "You just use them to hurt people."

"And so what?" Caleb sneered, "Maybe some people _need_ to be hurt."

Thera froze, and for a long, dangerous moment he stared at torturer while the storm rumbled on ominously overhead. When he finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm, "That's a view, I suppose. It's not one that I agree with, and _maybe_ it isn't a wise one to advance at this point, but...let's see…"

The therapist knelt down beside the torturer and gazed inquisitively into his eyes. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, Thera took a firm but gentle grip on the man's wrist and began carefully unwrapping the gauze surrounding the arrow.

"You see," he continued, in the same level, almost soporific tone, "The order I work for has a motto; 'misericordia et fortitudine'. It can be interpreted -good heavens, Clint, this bandaging is _awful_\- in a tonne of ways, but here I'm choosing to interpret it as 'to have the strength to have mercy'. You see, sometimes we have to deal with people who are...colossal _arses_, shall we say, and it's important that we're strong enough not to lose our sense of compassion and-"

The last piece of bandaging fell away, and Thera's hands were suddenly a blur. There was a loud 'crack' as he snapped the arrow shaft in two and _pulled_ from both ends. With an unpleasant grating noise and a spurt of blood the two halves came free, and he placed them carefully on the cloth before unrolling a bandage with a practiced flick of the wrist. For a moment, the pristine white dressing almost seemed to dance in the air, and in a flash he was making the final adjustments to the knots.

"-keep them distracted from the pain with long winded, pretentious speeches about mottos, values and whatnot," he concluded, before giving Clint a sideways look, "Remind me to show you apply a dressing properly, would you? It's easy to get out of practice."

"Aren't you going to stitch that arrow hole?" my husband pointed out, "He's just going to bleed out even faster now."

"Clint," Thera said irritably, "Your specialty is putting arrows in things at ranges normally reserved for naval artillery. _My_ specialty is digging those same arrows back out again. Do I stand behind _you_ and criticise your technique? No? Good - then be quiet and let me get this other arrow out. You'll have to stand up for me, Caleb."

"What's in that juice? It doesn't hurt at all," Caleb said, as Thera helped him carefully to his feet.

"Oh. it will," Thera said, "Like I told Bulgakov, that painkiller doesn't last forever - or even very long. Just...long _enough_."

"That's bullshit; Bulgakov's dead. I made sure of it!"

"In that case, I just walked a dead guy to an ambulance in front of fifteen people. I must be even better than I thought."

"He's right," I said, and quickly added, "About the first bit, anyway. I saw it myself. Still think that ol' Reggie's going to be forgiving of your little screwup?"

"I have proof!" Caleb protested.

"Yeah, right," I said, making sure to sound as dubious as possible. Whether he knew it or not, Thera had given me an opening here, "Where - on your phone?"

"Yes!"

"Okay then," I picked up his phone and shoved it under his nose, "Show me. _Now_."

Slightly disbelievingly, Clint, Thera and I watched in silence as Caleb punched in his phone's unlock code with a single hand. As he went to hand it over, my husband snatched it from his grasp and held it close to his face, out of view.

"Hey!" I snapped, "Clin-"

"Hold on, hon," he said, firmly, "I reckon we all know what his 'proof' is going to be, and you ain't gonna want to see it."

"He's right," Thera said, "I've seen some pretty nasty things in my career, and Caleb's work is easily in the top...ooh, fifty. If I had an opportunity not to see it, I'd probably take it."

"Only the top fifty?" Clint said, as he swiped left and right, presumably looking for the camera roll, "What d'ya have to do to get in the top twenty?"

"Get blown up, shredded...granulated in one case," Thera said, and shuddered, "Basically, whenever the chalk outline is more of a scattered collection of circles and everyone who saw it is traumatised for life. I'm always surprised at how much body you can get out of a body."

"That sounds hor-" Clint stopped suddenly, and blanched, "Oh..."

"Can I see?" Thera craned his neck to look and then quickly averted his eyes, "Yeah...that about what I remember."

Caleb had been watching Clint's reaction with some interest, and an evil smile spread across his face.

"I _told_ you I had proof," he said, in a mocking voice, "Impressed yet?"

My husband had fallen uncharacteristically silent, his expression grim as he swiped slowly through the images, taking in each fully in turn. I'd seen him like this only once before, and I knew exactly where it was going. From the way Thera was slowly moving to place himself between the two men, it was clear he knew as well. Any moment now-

Clint looked up, caught my wary eye, and gave me a roguish wink.

"Y'know what? I _am_ impressed," my husband said, "Good composition, excellent use of lighting. You didn't say you were a photographer, Caleb!"

Whatever response Caleb had been expecting, it clearly wasn't _that_. His smug smile wavered, and crinkles of disappointment began to creep in around the edges.

"I mean, look at this one-" Clint flashed the phone towards Thera, who glanced and then looked away with a grimace, "I mean, he's really captured Bulkagov's agonised scream - and the way the light plays off that puddle? Genius."

"Yeah, okay-" Thera said, but Clint wasn't done yet.

"And this one? Great depth of field. I'm really impressed at how you managed to make sure that _all_ of the butchery was in focus!"

"Clint!" Thera snapped. There was an almighty crash of lightning, and yet again the lights flickered and hummed before coming back to life. The therapist took a deep, trembling breath, and said, "Please - enough. Not all of us are hardened warriors."

"Yeah," said Caleb, in a rather childish tone, "We'd hate for you to upset the good doctor."

"That'd be the good doctor who just got your death warrant signed," Clint said, "'Cause without these photos, all anyone is going to hear about is how you couldn't even stop Bulkagov from walking down some stairs. Your boss ain't gonna like that."

"Keame-" Caleb began.

"Keame's dead, buddy!" Clint said, "He died last year!"

"Oh yeah?" Thera gave my husband an arch look, "What happened?"

"Well...I heard he accidentally stabbed himself to death while brushing his teeth."

"Really?" the therapist considered this, and then said, "Well, those electric toothbrushes _can _be tricky."

"Then who'd I speak to last week?" Caleb demanded, "And how did he die last year if he Blipped?"

"He...what?" Clint blinked in surprise, "That's not possible."

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of rain hammering on the roof.

"Must be another 'Keame', then," I said, eventually, "Wait. You called your boss 'Reggie' earlier. So..."

"Reggie Keame...Reggie Keame...where have I heard that name- hold on," Thera frowned, "You don't mean _Reginald _Keame, do you? Off've the radio?"

"Who's that?"

"He's a local politician, I think. Apparently he's attempting to make his name as an advocate for 'the Lost', by which he means people like-"

"-you and me, yeah."

"I'm not his biggest fan, but he's definitely starting to gain traction 'round these parts. He's talking about things like forcing people to give the Lost back their homes, preferential job treatment, compensation packages…"

"So he wants to force everyone to pretend the Blip never happened?" I said, "But it _did_."

Thera's eyebrows shot up, and he gave me a long, appraising look, "I didn't expect to hear that from you, Laura. You've come a long way."

"I…had a lot of help," I admitted, and gave Clint an affectionate smile, "And someone who didn't give up on me even when I was acting like a total madwoman."

"How touching," Caleb said sarcastically. I ignored him.

"But even if I Blipped back and found that another family was living in my farmhouse... I'm not sure I could force them to move out!"

"What if the alternative was living here?" Thera said, "The guy's got some radical ideas, but there's a lot of people here who think just like you did only a couple weeks ago. He's promising to turn back the clock, and that must be pretty enticing to some people."

"You seem to know a lot about this guy," Clint observed. Thera shrugged.

"I'm a volunteer in a Blip Centre were literally _nobody _is sick," he said, "Until today I've been spending a lot of time sitting on my hands, drinking tea, and listening to the radio. Anyway, if this _is_ the same Reginald Keame, then that's...interesting. Thank you, Caleb."

Caleb now looked a little ill, but met Thera's gaze defiantly, "It's not gonna do you any good, you limey runt. I know you're lookin' for som-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off in a strangled yelp as Thera swiftly excised the embedded arrow, and then bandaged the bleeding wound with the same practised ease as before.

"_So_ sorry," he said, with a bright, insincere smile, "Could you repeat that?"

"Screw you, doc."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Thera said, and then turned to myself and Clint, "Well, my work here is done. He's all yours...although I have genuinely no idea _what _you're going to do about him."

"...and what're you gonna do, then?" Clint said.

"Me? I'm going to tidy this stuff up, dispose of these 'ere bloodstained arrows, and then have a bloody _nap_," he yawned, "I'm on empty, guys. Seriously; if I don't get some shuteye in the next ten minutes I'll probably just straight up collapse."

Right on cue, there was a light knock at the door.

"Oh, for _goodness sake-_" Thera began, but cut his curse short as the door swung open to reveal a slim, rather drenched girl with curly brown hair. In the gloom of the storm she was the spitting image of Lila, and my breath caught in my throat as she staggered inside and closed the door behind her. I felt my husband's fingers tighten suddenly around my shoulder.

"Poppy?" Thera looked quickly at Caleb, and then moved swiftly round the table to block him from view, "You shouldn't have come out in this storm, sweetheart. You're soaked!"

"It's okay," she smiled brightly. Her train track braces gleamed brightly in the electric lights, and I felt my heart skip yet another beat, "Kostas said you were over here."

"Yes, but…you know what? Never mind," Thera smiled gently, "We'll find you a towel. What did you need?"

"Oh, oh, I was just wondering if Manny and Jacinta were okay?" Poppy said, a little nervously, "I heard that they were sick..."

"They're fine," the therapist said reassuringly, "But would you feel better if we went to check on them? They're just in the infirmary."

"Okay!" she said, and then she looked down and shuffled her feet nervously, "I, um...was also wondering if…"

"I'm sorry, darling," Thera shook his head, "We haven't found your parents yet - but I promise you that Vi is out there right now following up every lead we have."

"I know," Poppy said, but her expression was downcast, "Do...you think they're still looking for me?"

There was no way she could have seen the anguish that flickered across Thera's face, but the catch in his voice was obvious, "If...if I were them, Poppy, I'd be frantically searching high and low for you, and I'd never give up until I'd..." he stopped, and gave her a rather forced smile, "You know what? Let's go and see how those two are doing, shall we? Clint? Laura?"

"I, uh, yeah?" Clint had clearly been transfixed by Poppy's appearance, and shook himself back to reality with an effort.

"I'm just going to do this one other thing and _then_ I'm going to take a nap. Caleb is your responsibility-" Thera paused, and then added pointedly, "Do _not_ let anything happen to him, okay?"

"Who's Caleb?" Poppy tried to get a view of the strange man but was expertly fielded by Thera, who proceeded to quickly shepherd her out the door with a quick 'doesn't matter!'. The door clicked shut behind them, and my husband released a sudden, explosive breath.

"Jesus," he said, "That kid…"

"I know," I said.

"Did you see what was on her T-shirt?" he went on, "That's Lila's favourite show!"

"And no parents," I could feel the tears welling up, "The poor girl. She must be so afraid..."

"This is a mess," Clint said grimly, "A goddamn mess. If it's not her, it's those other kids, or that woman, or Bulgakov. This isn't what we wanted, Laura."

"This isn't your fault, hon."

"Isn't it? Are you _sure?"_

"Yes!" I said, "You didn't know this was going to happen."

"We had two of the smartest people in the _world_ working to bring you guys back. They must've known, but...even if they'd told me, I don't think I would've cared," my husband's voice dropped to a whisper, "I was so _desperate _to see you and the kids that I didn't think about what that'd mean for everyone else."

"Do you…" I paused, unsure if I really wanted to hear the answer, "Do you regret bringing us back?"

"No!" Clint said instantly, "I'll never regret that. I did the right thing for myself and my family...it's just-"

"-you wonder if you did the right thing for all these people?" I said, "It was all or nothing, hon, you know that. Even if it wasn't, who would be the person to judge who should and shouldn't be resurrected?"

"I suppose," he said, "But it's hard, seeing what's going on here. I've got everything I've ever dreamed of and they're paying my bill. I feel so...selfish."

"It'll get better, Clint," I promised, and squeezed his hand reassuringly, "It will."

"...yeah," he said, rather unconvincingly, "I just need to see that happen, I guess."

"Well, would a coffee help?" I said, "I'm pretty sure I saw some instant stuff behind reception."

"I suppose," he said, and smiled crookedly, "I'll stay here and watch our friend...y'know, until we decide what to do with him."

"Doesn't look like he's going anywhere," I remarked. Following Thera's departure, the man had slumped down further in his seat, and the greyish pallor had returned, "I guess those painkillers wore off, huh."

"It could be a trick," Clint said, and indicated one of the small burn marks on his arm, "I'll be careful."

"Please do, hon," I said, "I didn't come back just to have you get stabbed to death by a crazy eye fetishist!"

* * *

There was a 'hah' from somewhere behind me as I stepped out of the little staff room and onto the covered walkway that led to reception. The wind howled and the rain continued to hammer down as I picked my way carefully across the sodden gravel, and judging from the inky black storm clouds overhead there were no signs of it breaking. WIth a muttered curse, I drew my damp coat about myself and tried to think of sunny beaches and hot tubs.

With a loud creak the door at the far end opened wide, and bright yellow light spilled out onto the walkway. Three silhouettes emerged, talking and giggling amongst themselves, and as I drew closer they resolved themselves into Poppy and two other, smaller children. The trio walked hand in hand down the walkway, apparently oblivious to the terrible weather, but suddenly came to a screeching halt when they spotted me coming the other way.

"Hi Laura!" Poppy said, cheerfully. The other children quickly hid behind her legs, "Did you get bored of watching that man? It's okay, I get bored of things too."

"_God, how unfair is this?"_ my mind said, _"She even _talks_ like Lila_."

"H-Hi, Poppy," I said, a little shakily, "Are you okay? Are you warm enough?"

"Yup!" she said, "I was just taking Manny and Jacinta back to our room. They got sick, but Thera made them all better with this magic fizzy drink! It was really cool."

"That's great!" I enthused, "But kids, you have to stay out of the medicine cabinet in the future, yeah? Those are for grownups only!"

"'th," said the one that I assumed was Manny, "Thera was _very _cross with us."

"He said that if he caught us in there again, we wouldn't get any sweeties for a month!" said Jacinta.

"You're lucky," I said sternly, "If I was in charge then you wouldn't get any sweeties for a _year_. _And_ you wouldn't get any television!"

"See? I _told _you that the grownups would be angry at you," Poppy cut in, "I _told_ you. Now let's get you home before you catch your death of cold!"

"_And that's the sound of a child copying her parents,"_ my mind sighed, _"Are we really okay with _this_ being the price for us being brought back?"_

"Do you want me to walk with you?" I offered, "I-"

"It's okay," Poppy said, "I'll…"

She trailed off, and suddenly the gazes of all three children were fixated on something over my left shoulder. With a nervous fluttering in the pit of my stomach, I turned to see a small, swirling yellow light hovering about ten meters away. Whatever it was, it was hissing gently in the downpour, but seemed to be making no effort to move or investigate its surroundings. It didn't _seem_ threatening, but having been killed once I was in no mood to make cavalier judgements.

"What is that, Laura?" Poppy asked nervously, and every maternal klaxon went off at once.

"I don't know," I said, and looked around for something that I might be able to swing or throw, "Get behind me, kids, and we'll head back to-"

There was a much louder hiss, and then with a 'whump' and a cloud of steam the light expanded to form a swirling circle. Although the centre of the circle was dark, I was pretty sure that I could see pair of flickering lights in the middle distance that I was _pretty_ sure were burning torches. Before I could be sure, though, they were obscured from view as a tall, cloaked shadow stepped through the portal and immediately sank up to its ankles with a _squelch_ of mud. Apparently surprised by this turn of events, the shadow half-waded, half staggered to the comparatively stable ground of the covered walkway where it stood, surveying the chaotic weather with a distinct air of disgust

The portal snapped shut, plunging us all back into the stormy gloom. Quietly, I motioned to Poppy and the other kids to move back towards reception, while I dug desperately in my pocket for my phone. If I could just text Clint, he-

"Hello?" Jacinta called into the dark, "Mister Stranger? Hello!"

The shadow jumped with surprise, and then whipped around to face us with a billow of its cloak. There was a 'click', a sudden flare of light, and then-

"Mrs Barton?" the shadow spoke, with a deep, smooth British accent, "Laura Barton?"

"...yes?" I said, squinting against the glare, "Who're you?"

The shadow stepped forwards, and reorientated the flashlight to reveal a handsome face with well-defined cheekbones, a goatee, and a mop of brown, wavy hair that was touched with grey at the temples.

"Strange," he said, and extended a hand, "Doctor Stephen Strange. We met briefly - at Stark's funeral?"

"Oh," I said in a rather noncommittal tone, but accepted the proffered hand regardless, "You'll have to forgive me; I met a _lot _of people at Stark's funeral, and - well, I'd just discovered I'd been dead for five years. I was really just there to support Clint."

"That's okay," Strange said, with a slightly patronising air, "I have an eidetic memory. Not everyone does."

"Mmm," I said, forcing down a little wave of irritation, "So, what're you doing here?"

"I could ask the same about you," Strange raised an eyebrow, "I was under the impression that you were still in possession of your family home."

"Oh, I don't _live_ here," I said quickly, "Clint and I were just-"

"Hawkeye's around?" Strange perked up suddenly, "Good - maybe he'll be able to help. Can you direct me to him?"

"_Ouch,"_ said my mind _"That's an impressively fast time-to-chopped liver, even by our standards."_

"He's busy," I said, a little curtly, "What do you need?"

Strange was a little taken aback, but recovered quickly, "I'm just following up on a couple of leads. There's been some unusual...readings coming from around here, and considering recent events I thought I should investigate sooner rather than later."

"This is about the wizard camouflage, isn't it?"

"How did you hear about that?" Strange didn't look amused, "I only mentioned it to Fury-"

"-who mentioned it to Clint, because he trusts Clint," I said, and then added with a touch of smugness, "Who mentioned it to me, because he _trusts_ me."

"In that case, since we're all being so _trusting-_" the word hung in the air, icy cold and dangerous, "-perhaps you can tell me if you've seen anything that might be of interest. It might help prevent another disaster."

"How would I know what's interesting to you?" I asked, "I'm not a wizard."

"Well, no," he said, and again there was that patronising edge to his voice, "But anything out of the ordinary would help. Hawkeye would definitely have more experience in this area-"

"You should talk to Thera!" piped up Manny.

"Yeah!" said Jacinta, "Thera knows everything!"

Strange looked at the children as if seeing them for the first time, "Thera, you say?"

"Yeah!"

"And where can I find...Thera?"

"In the infirmary," said Poppy, indicating the main reception building, "But-"

"Thank you," Strange said, and acknowledged me with a nod of his head, "Good day, Laura. If you see Hawkeye, please be sure to send him my way."

Before I could object he was gone, his cloak whipping in the wind as he headed towards the reception with long, purposeful strides.

"Oops," said Jacinta, "Thera isn't going to like _that_."

"You'd better get after him," Poppy said warningly, "Thera's pretty cranky when he's sleepy, an' I don't think I've ever seen him _this _sleepy."

"Yeah," I said, "Are you _sure_ you're going to be okay getting back? On your own? Do you want me to come and check on you later?"

"What?" she giggled, "I don't need you to check on me. I'm a big girl now!"

"Even so…" I paused, and decided that I'd deal with it later, "Actually - go find Clint! Stay there until I get back!"

The gravel crunched and slid under my feet as I hurried after Strange. Whether or not Jacinta knew it, she was right. After everything that had happened, the last thing we needed was Strange kicking down every door in the complex looking for clues. If nothing else it probably _would_ send Thera over the edge, and I had no particular desire to try and separate him and the supposed Master of the Mystic Arts.

"Strange! Wait!" I shouted. The ground shifted underfoot and I slammed hard into the door jamb before staggering into the reception area. Before I could do any further damage to myself a restraining hand shot out and caught me by the arm, and I whirled to find myself face to face with the awkward doctor.

"Good catch," I said breathlessly.

"Please _do _be careful, Laura," he said, releasing his grip and stepping back, "Is your shoulder okay? That looked like a pretty nasty wallop."

"It's fine, I think," I gave it an experimental flex, and winced as it protested slightly, "Well, it's no worse off than the rest of me."

"Make sure you get it looked at," he said, "In any case, what were you so concerned about?"

"Oh? Oh - yeah," I said, "Look. Thera's been through hell and _really_ needs some downtime. It's been one horror after another here, and-"

"-I am an exceptionally busy man, Laura," he interrupted me, "And I am _attempting _to locate an entity that is doing its level best to _not_ be located. Given the potential severity of the situation, I am sure that Thera would understand if I were to request a couple of minutes of her time. She can always 'nap' later."

"I'm really _not_ sure that-" I paused, as a neuron belatedly waved a flag, "Wait a minute - 'she'?"

"Indeed," Strange said absently. His gaze alighted on a white door with a green cross stuck to it and his eyes lit up, "Ah! If you would please excuse me."

"Would you just _listen_ for a second?" I growled, but he had already brushed past me and was headed for the door, "Damnit, Strange! _Stephen!_"

It was too late. Before I could stop him, Strange twisted the doorknob, threw open the door and strode confidently into the infirmary.

"Pardon the interruption," he began in a bluntly unapologetic tone, "My- oh."

"Sorry, Thera-" I said, poking my head around the corner, "I tried to stop him, but…"

My apology died on my lips as I took in the scene. The infirmary was a small, rudimentary affair - effectively two beds, a sink, and a medicine cabinet crammed into what had probably started out life as a broom cupboard. Thera was sitting on one of the beds, hugging his knees and with his head buried in his legs. He looked up at Strange's entrance with a defeated expression, and I felt a wrench deep inside as I saw the tears streaming down his cheeks.

"What...what fresh hell is this?" he said, in an exhausted tone, "What's going on _now_?"

"I'm sorry," I tried again, "Strange-"

"You're... a man," Strange said, with some confusion.

"...yes?" Thera's expression was equally confused, "And you felt the need to tell me this _why_, exactly?"

"Thera is a girl's name," said the doctor, "A _Greek_ girl's name. You're a Brit."

"Actually, he's not a Brit." I said, and Thera inclined his head thankfully in my direction.

"What she said," he said, and there was now a bit of iron in his voice, "Now, who are _you_?"

"I'm Strange," Strange said, and extended his hand. Thera looked him up and down.

"Agreed," he said flatly.

"No - I'm _Dr._ Strange. Dr. _Stephen _Strange." the doctor said wearily, "Master of the Mystic Arts. For some reason, you seem strangely familiar."

"I'm glad for you - for us," Thera said, "Now go away."

"Excuse me?" Strange seemed genuinely surprised, "But I'm Dr. Stran-"

"I don't care if you're an envoy of the Goddess herself, mate! _Nothing _gives you the right to burst in here bellowing 'Pardon the interruption' in a bloody R.P. accent loud enough to wake the dead!" Thera considered this, and added, "Although if you _did _want to do that, you've come to the right place."

"I am looking for an entity of _tremendous _mystical ability-"

"I _don't care!_ I'm sorry, but am I not communicating my disinterest plainly enough to you? Is it not clear? I have had a _sodding_ bad day, Strange! I've had children go down with paracetamol poisoning, a woman try to kill herself, torture...and..." Thera ran his hand across his beanie, and added quietly, "I'm sitting here crying for someone who I barely know. Just please leave us alone. _Please_."

"We should _go_ now, Strange," I said, and gave Thera a sympathetic smile, "'Give him some space."

Strange looked from myself to Thera, "I suppose that I'm not going to get any useful information from this individual. Is there anyone else available? Someone else who might have seen anything unusual?"

"I don't think so," I conceded, "Maybe you should come back another time."

"Don't waste your time, or ours," said Thera, "We have enough on our plate as it is."

"I beg your pardon?" said Strange, with a disbelieving little smile, "I am tasked with defending this planet from mystical threats, and-"

"That's a fact which I wouldn't advertise too loudly, if I were you," said Thera, icily, "Not when you're standing in a monument to your abject failure."

"-as I was _going_ to say, we have what could be a highly dangerous entity operating in this area. I need to find it, and if I have to ask everyone in this complex to do that then that's exactly what I'll do."

"No, you _won't!_" the tears were gone, and in a flash Thera was on his feet and advancing dangerously towards the doctor, "How is it that someone as smart as you can be such a _cretin_ when dealing with people? You didn't listen to Laura, you _aren't_ listening to me, and from that I'm pretty sure that the only thing you're going to end up doing is setting them against each other."

"That's not my intenti-"

"I don't _care_ if it's your bloody intention, you...twit!" Thera paused, apparently searching for the right words, "Okay, let me put it like this. For people like Laura and myself here, what do you think our first experience with the mystic world was? It was when, out of the blue, we got disintegrated by some complete _arse_ with a magic glove! What was our second experience? Oh, right - when we was spontaneously reassembled five years in the future by a completely different arse who had -wait for it- _another _magic glove! Those people out there? They've lost homes, jobs, entire families to magic, and now you want to go out there and start a _literal _witch-hunt? How _stupid_ are you?"

"Well-"

"And _another_ thing-" having started, Thera clearly had no intention of stopping, "If you are going to start punching holes in the space-time continuum, do _not_ punch them in major thoroughfares! If I hear about one of the residents here being bisected because you didn't want to get your steps in, then I _swear_ that I will do my level best to make you thoroughly regret not having gone into teaching instead."

The last word echoed up and down the hall while Thera stared defiantly at the Master of the Mystic Arts. Strange stared back, and after a moment his expression changed from one of shock to sudden, triumphant recognition.

"Ah..._now_ I recognise you," he said, snapping his fingers, "That expression isn't one I'm likely to forget in a hurry."

"We have _never_ met, Strange," Thera said, "Never. Ever ever."

"Oh, _you _and I have never met," said Strange, in the self-satisfied tones of someone about to lay down a royal flush, "But remember, I've seen over fourteen million different futures, and I have a photographic memory."

There was a brief pause while Thera considered this implications of this, and then his eyes suddenly went wide with alarm.

"Wait," he said, "How many times-"

"Enough."

"Enough?"

"_Enough,_" Strange said firmly, and Thera's jaw went tight, "So...do I have your attention?"

"I..._suppose_," Thera glowered at him, "You know, using alternate timelines to gather dirt on people is really _low_."

"I don't recall ever promising to play fair. I play to _win_," Strange said, "Something we have in common, I believe."

"Okay, you've made your point," Thera said acidly, "What is it that you _want_, exactly?"

"Nothing that significant," Strange said, "I'm pretty sure that the entity I'm looking for is somewhere in the immediate vicinity, and from what I hear you seem to have your finger on the local pulse. All _you _need to do is ensure that it understands that it is allowed to remain here _entirely _at my pleasure. As long as it keeps its head down, exercises some self-control, and stops affecting local weather systems, then we won't have a problem."

"Hang on," I said, "Are you saying that this storm isn't natural?"

"Indeed. An eight mile diameter storm of this intensity? Not very likely."

"And you want _Thera_ to track this thing down and talk to it? But he's, well-" I gestured at Thera, "-he's not exactly a monster hunter. I'm sure that Clint would be more than happy to help."

"For a fee, I suspect."

"Arrows don't come cheap," I pointed out, "Neither do good archers."

"Hopefully, it won't come to that," said Strange, "Whatever it is, I believe it has relatively benign intentions and hopefully some measure of common sense. However, I will keep your generous offer in mind."

"Mmm. So...you don't want it dead, then?" Thera said, with some surprise, "You're sure about that?"

"When I became a doctor I swore an oath to do no harm. I'd like to keep that vow if at all possible," Strange said, and then smiled slightly, "Besides, it might be useful to have around in the future."

Thera smiled, or at the very least showed his teeth, "Well, that remains to be seen. Tell you what; you do me a favour and..._if_ I find what you're looking for, then I'll be sure to pass your generous offer along."

"And why would I do you a favour?"

"Because when people resort to blackmail, there's inevitably a point when they end up having to _pay _for it," Thera said, and the threat hung implicitly in the air, "Karmic backlash is a bit of a bugger - and I'm sure you've seen 'enough' to know that you don't want any part of that."

The sorcerer scratched at his goatee for a moment, and then said, "Well, that depends on what the favour _is_, of course."

"Oh, it's pretty simple. Laura here captured a man who severely injured a resident," there was a pause, and Strange regarded me with some surprise, "I'm a little worried about the long-term implications of releasing him into police custody."

"And what do you propose that_ I_ do about it?"

"When you go, I want you to take him with you," Thera said, "I don't really care where you take him, so long as it's a long way away from here and precludes his return. I would be quite..._unhappy_ if I encountered him a second time."

"I won't send him anywhere lethal, you understand," Strange said.

"Of course not; you took a vow to preserve life," said Thera, "I took a vow to show mercy and compassion. Also, I'm a pacifist."

"My goodness, really?" Strange said, "You've certainly stretched the definition of _that _word to breaking point."

"If you don't zip it, it won't be the only thing around here that gets stretched to breaking point," Thera said threateningly, "By which I mean your face."

"Yes. I understood the implication."

"Excellent. Now follow me."

* * *

Thera and I led Doctor Strange back under the covered walkway to the staff area. The rain was still hammering down with some force, but at least the wind, thunder, and lightning appeared to have petered out for now. Even so, the ground was now becoming extremely treacherous, and where it wasn't just slick, wet mud there were little rivulets carrying silt and stones towards the central meeting spot.

Thera marched on with the slightly unfocused gaze of the terminally exhausted, but the tension across his shoulders and his eyes was unmistakable. Every so often, he cast a glance back towards the taller doctor following on behind, and a dark shadow passed across his face. Whatever Strange had on him, it was clearly sensitive enough to force him to dance to the sorcerer's tune, and that fact was both scary and deeply annoying in equal measure. While the idea of Thera actually _being_ a therapist had long been a total fiction, his bearing and character didn't strike me as the kind of person who would be particularly good at hunting down and talking with storm-generating mystical entities, whatever form those might take.

"_Face it, you're just sour that Strange so casually outclassed you and Clint's little fly-by-night intelligence gathering exercise," _said my mind, _"Who could've predicted that a well-trained, highly intelligent sorcerer would be able to do better than an ex-waitress and an archer?"_

"He's just so _smug _about it," I muttered, "And do we really think that Thera is that capable?"

"_What do we _really_ know about him? He might dress like he's been dragged through a hedge backwards, and he might _act_ like a gentle, vulnerable guy - but that could easily be just that - an act. You saw how quickly those tears vanished."_

"The guy's exhausted. Give him a break."

"_Look; if he gets vapourised following Strange's orders then we'll just have to find a new therapist. This isn't our problem."_

"You sure about that? Thera's our-"

"_-therapist, at least supposedly. We're his _client_. Don't get too attached."_

Presently, we reached the staff room, and Clint looked up as we piled in quickly out of the rain.

"Did you manage to find any coffee-" he began, but stopped when he spotted Doctor Strange, "Stephen?"

"Clint," Strange inclined his head, and then shook Clint's hand, "Are you keeping well?"

"Better than I have been in years," Clint said, with a smile, "And you? Are you following up on...what Fury was talking about?"

"Yes," Strange said, "Thank you for taking the liberty to share that with your dear lady wife. It certainly saves time when _everyone _knows what I'm doing."

"Sorry," Clint winced, "Fury didn't say it was confidential, so-"

"It's fine," Strange waved it aside, "Besides, I've outsourced to...Thera, here. It turns out that we have a long association with each other."

"You," Clint said, "You know Thera? How?"

"Oh, we've spent a long time together," said Strange, "Technically speaking, so have you - but I'm the only one here with a-"

"Photographic memory, yeah," Thera said, and yawned again, "Change the record, mate."

"I was going to say 'experience of alternate timelines', but yes."

"Thera? I thought you were going to take a nap," Clint pointed out, "You're barely standing upright as it is."

"I was _going_ to take a nap before you and Laura showed up," Thera said, "It turns out that every time I think about doing so, we have a new arrival - so I figure that if I hold out for a little longer then maybe a marching band'll come knocking at the gate. Maybe some elephants, too. I like elephants."

"Maybe you should sit down. You're starting to look a little crazy around the eyes."

"In just a second; where's my good friend Caleb?" Thera espied the hunched over man, and walked over to clap him firmly on the back, "Caleb, mate! How are we?"

"Doin' just fine, thanks," The torturer glanced up at Thera with undisguised contempt, "Did you have a good cry?"

"Passable, thanks," said Thera briskly, "Anyway, the good news is that we've decided what we're going to do with you! Here's a hint; it doesn't involve releasing you to the police."

"So, what," Caleb said, "You gonna kill me?"

"I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't considered that in some detail," Thera said, "I had some pretty innovative ideas that involved tearing you limb from limb and scattering the parts over a wide area...but then I remembered that I'd spent all that time bandaging you and, unlike you, my time and those bandages are actually worth something. Also, Doctor Strange here has made a vow not to kill anyone and he's _technically_ blackmailing me, so I should probably do what he says. Did you know he has a photographic memory?"

"So, what...you're gonna turn me into a frog?"

"Oooh, now _that's _a good idea. Can you do that?" Thera looked over at Strange, who shook his head slightly, "No, didn't think so. See - the trouble is you're quite big, and a frog is quite small, and so there's a bit of a discrepancy in the whole mass-energy balance thing. Chances are, you'd either be turned into a Caleb-sized frog, a whole bunch of smaller frogs, or a single small frog and an almighty explosion as the rest of you is converted to pure energy! Isn't magic fun?"

"That isn't magic," said Strange, "That's gibberish."

"Details, details. Anyway!" Thera clapped his hands together excitedly, "We put our heads together for a while and you know what we decided to do? We're going to send you on holiday! Somewhere far away. Very far away indeed."

"...what?" Caleb blinked.

"Oh, yes. Y'see, Strange has been to all these..._strange_ places-" Thera snorted, "-and we think you'd just love to visit some of them! Like the dimension where everything is feet! The ground is feet, the trees are feet, and even the feet are feet! It's _wild_, man. How'd you like the sound of that? Because honestly, it's down to a choice between that one and the one where you grow fingers on your fingers, and I'd imagine that you'd get bored of that pretty quickly. Fingers aren't as exciting as feet."

"I...don't want to go to either of those," Caleb said, and gave Strange a wild, terrified look, "Please don't-"

"Well, you probably should've thought about that _before_ you tortured Bulgakov," Thera said, and his smile sent a chill up my spine, "Don't worry; you won't die. You'll probably just _wish_ you had."

"Oh, definitely," said Strange, "I was only passing through and it almost drove me mad."

"Please!" Caleb said frantically, and tears suddenly sprang to his eyes, "I'll tell you everything about Keame! Please! Don't…"

Thera stared at the terrified man for a moment longer, and then his smile faded and his shoulders slumped.

"I can't do it," he said, and gave Strange a helpless look, "I just _can't_. Not while he's begging for mercy."

"He is a _torturer_, Thera," Strange said, "He's the opposite of everything you -_we-_ vowed to uphold."

"Yeah...but I'm _me_," Thera sighed, "Do you have any non-lethal, non-appendage related alternatives?"

"Well, there is _one_," said Strange, with a curiously even tone, "Let's see-"

There was a flare of orange flame under Caleb's chair, and with a sudden scream he dropped from view. I craned my neck to look, but could only get a sense of absolute darkness before the portal snapped shut, taking the scream with it.

"Where...where did that go?" Clint said, a little nervously, "It looked dark."

"Just a little holding area. He'll keep falling until I let him out, but no harm will come to him," said the doctor, "Normally, people are _quite_ talkative when they're released."

"It's not great," Thera said, begrudgingly, "But it'll do."

"Let it be a warning to you too, Thera," Strange added ominously, "Don't push your luck."

"Likewise, _mate,_" the air crackled between the two men for just a moment, and then Strange turned away.

"Well, this has been a very _interesting_ fact finding mission, and I look forward to hearing about your successes in due course," the doctor brought up his hand and gestured in a whirling motion towards the back wall, and another portal swirled into existence. While it was still dark on the other side I could make out what looked to be a large library, with heavy tomes chained to large metal lattices, "So I will bid you good day. Laura? Clint? It was good to see you again. We'll have to catch up under less...pressing circumstances."

"Sure thing," said Clint, and shook his hand with another smile, "Cya 'round."

"Of course," Strange said, and then a nasty little smirk crossed his face as he glanced at Thera, "And Sparky? It was definitely...interesting to see you again. Please give your sister my regards."

The portal irised shut and then a tumbler bounced against the wall, right where Strange's head would have been.

"Sparky? Oh, I am going to sodding _kill_ him," Thera snarled, advancing on the inoffensive plasterboard, "Do you hear me, Strange? _Strang-_"

It was as if someone had flipped a switch. One second, Thera was stalking towards the wall with his hackles raised, and then, suddenly, he collapsed limply to the floor. Somehow, Clint moved fast enough to catch him before he cracked his head on a nearby chair, and then lowered him carefully to the floor.

"Quick! Help me turn him over," Clint said, "He's heavier than he looks."

"What's happened? What's going on?" I said, surprising myself at how calm I was as I helped Clint shift Thera into the recovery position.

Clint lowered his ear to Thera's mouth, and then quickly felt for a pulse.

"Exhaustion, I think," he said, with some relief, I saw this happen with Wanda once. She over-extended herself and _poof_ \- out like a light. I guess he just doesn't know his limits."

"Or he ignored them," I said, "So...what do we do?"

"What _can_ we do?" Clint shrugged, "He needs to rest, so...let him rest. We'll have to leave him with Kostas and make sure he keeps an eye on him. Vi, too."

"That's it? We're just going to _leave _him?"

"He'll probably be sleeping for quite a while, babe. Wanda was out for three days - and we've got an actual life and kids to get back to. I reckon we've probably found out everything we're going to here, anyways."

"By which you mean...more questions?"

"That's about how these things go, yeah," Clint said, "We'll have to leave it for now - but when Thera wakes up? I'm going to want some answers."


	10. Chapter 10: A Matter of Pride

**Chapter Ten: A Matter of Pride**

Once we'd made sure that everything was stable, Clint went to find Kostas and, presumably, some half-decent coffee. While I appreciated the short break, being stuck alone in a desolate little room with a nearly lifeless man quickly became unnerving, and I found myself pacing up and down, shivering despite the warmth.

On the bright side, Thera didn't seem to mind. He hadn't moved or made a sound since being placed in the recovery position, and his breathing was slow, calm, and steady. His tranquil expression, however, seemed strangely _wrong_ on a face that was so often lined with anxiety, irritation, or concern, and I briefly wondered what was going on behind those eyelids.

"_Or, y'know, what's going on under that hat,"_ my mind suggested, treacherously, _"I mean, c'mon; he's wearing one hideous beanie after another. Why? Did he shave it as a bet? He could have terrible hat hair, like when Cooper wore that baseball cap for three weeks straight!"_

"That doesn't seem right," I muttered, "He's out cold!"

"_Go on - just a peek. You _know_ you're curious."_

"I'm curious about lots of things," I pointed out, "Like what was going on between him and Strange? They _really_ didn't like each other."

"_Did _you_ like Strange?"_

"Not really, but I also wouldn't throw down the gauntlet with him," I pointed out, "Thera didn't even hesitate."

"_Half addled with tiredness? Shaken by the torture? Angry at being blackmailed? Take your pick. Also, the fact he collapsed barely five minutes later means he probably wasn't exactly thinking clearly."_

"I suppose," I sighed, and threw myself down on a nearby chair. My legs and backside squealed in protest, and I could already start to feel the stiffness setting in in my hamstrings.

"_Keep that up and he's not the only one who'll collapse. A woman of _your _age brawling in the street? You could've at least stretched first."_

"And I wish _you'd _go away," I said, and rapped my fist against the side of my head,"I thought the endless nitpicking had died with mom!"

"_Please. If you didn't keep a little bit of her around to remind yourself of your inadequacies, you might _actually _accomplish something. Isn't that a scary thought?"_

"I _have_ accomplished something! Lots of things!"

"_We've been over this, kiddo. Anyway, your phone's ringing and I'm not your damn PA."_

With a sigh, I pulled out my buzzing phone and saw Thera's area code displayed proudly on the top. Quickly, I swiped right and was not entirely surprised to hear Vi's rapid fire speech come babbling down the line.

"Laura? Is that you?" she said, "I've just got in and found a message from Kostas that you were at the Blip Centre, but now nobody's answering the front desk and I can't get ahold of Thera. Is he there? I need to speak to him."

"He's here, Vi," I said, and tried to keep my voice as calm as possible, "Um…"

"'Um…?' Can you put him on?"

"Not exactly," I said, and winced at every word, "He kind of...collapsed."

"Collapsed."

"Um...yes. It was really sudden, too. Like he'd just had his strings cut."

From the other end of the line there was a long, deep breath. When Vi returned, her voice was clipped, crisp, and coldly professional.

"Is he breathing?"

"Yes."

"Are his eyes open?"

"No."

"Is he moving at all? Is he making any sounds?"

"No, uh…" I paused, and listened hard, "No. None."

"Has he eaten anything? Has he drunk anything?"

"Not that I've seen, Vi."

"Hmm," Vi sounded unhappy, "Was he acting strange in any way beforehand? Mood swings? Extreme reactions?"

"Yes!" I said, and then moderated my tone, "I mean...yes. I think so, anyway."

"Explain."

"I, uh…" I faltered, a little taken aback by how different her speech was, "It might be better if I just tell you everything that's happened."

"Please do."

Vi remained largely silent while I provided a rundown of the morning's events, and interrupted only twice to get clarity on what Thera had said or done. While I spoke, Clint returned carrying two steaming cups of coffee, one of which he placed on the table next to me while he went to squat next to the unconscious therapist.

"-and then he just collapsed. Like I said, a puppet with his strings cut," I concluded, "Oh, and then you rang."

"Thank you, Laura," Vi said, "One moment, please."

There was a rumbling noise that sounded suspiciously like someone covering the speaker with their hand, and then there came the muffled sounds of loud, inventive cursing on the other end of the line.

"Sorry about that," she said, a short while later, "Okay. Firstly, Thera is not in any immediate danger. What you're dealing with there is a reaction to prolonged and extreme physical and emotional stress. Basically, his body can't take anymore and it's...shut down, so to speak. As long as he's kept cool and allowed to rest, he'll probably wake up in about four or five days."

"Four to five _days?_" I exclaimed. Clint nodded in the background.

"Assuming nothing happens that might prolong that," Vi said, "He'll be groggy as hell for a couple of days after that, but he'll be back to normal within a week."

"That's crazy," I said, "I've heard of fainting from stress, but never anything like _this_."

"Hey," Clint said, in a slightly hurt tone, "I literally _just_ told you about Wanda."

"Okay, except Wanda."

"You probably wouldn't've," Vi said, "It's quite rare. In fact, the only people I know who are affected by this are Thera and his twin."

"So it's genetic?"

"Ah...hmm. Not _exactly_," she paused, and then said forcefully, "Damnit! I _knew_ I should have come with him! I _knew_ this was going to happen!"

"You _did?_"

"Yeah; the Blip really shook him up," she said, "He basically hasn't slept since it happened, and whatever sleep he _has _had has been filled with nightmares. I thought I could keep it under control, but now this? Sodding _hell_."

"I had no idea," I said, "I'm really sorry. I didn't-"

"You wouldn't have known, and he wouldn't have told you," Vi said, and then added in a mocking tone, "After all, why would he take care of _himself _when there's all these poor little lost sheep in need?"

"That seems a bit unfair," I said, "He's just trying to help!"

"That's the point, Laura," she said, her voice now rising in anger, "He's _always_ just trying. He's _trying _to be a bloody white knight! If it's not you guys, it's your son. If it's not your son, it's the Blip Centre. If it's not the Blip Centre, it'll be the whole goddamn planet! He just doesn't stop - he _can't_ stop, and I'm always the one picking up the bloody pieces."

"I know, Vi, and I'm sorry," I said calmly, "But right now you need to tell us you want us to do with him. We can bring him back to you, if you want, or we could leave him in the Blip Centre with Kostas-"

"No," she said, in the same tight voice, "Do _not_ leave him at the Blip Centre. I'd rather you leave him in a ditch at the side of the road than at that madhouse."

Clint, who was apparently close enough to catch that last statement, suddenly had a contemplative look on his face. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

"Okay," I said, "We'll bring him back to you. Just one question, though."

There was an irritated sigh, "Shoot."

"What's the deal with Strange calling him 'Sparky', and why did he get so annoyed by it?"

"Sparky is my nickname for him," Vi said, "'Cause when we were growing up he always wanted to be an electrician, see? Nobody else calls him that; not even his sister."

"So…"

"So if Strange knows about it, then he must have seen us together when he was out touring all those alternate realities," Vi went on, "I can see why Spar-Thera might not've liked the implications of that."

"What _are_ the implications of that."

"For us? Nothing good," she said, "For you? Nothing."

"That doesn't seem fair," I said, "We've earned a straight answer!"

"And I'd be the first to agree with you," said Vi, "But as I bet you're now _painfully_ aware, life isn't fair. Maybe at some point when this is all over I'll sit you down and go over everything in detail, but I wouldn't hold my breath."

"But you want us to trust you and Sparky-"

"-Thera," Vi corrected primly, "Let's not get _too_ familiar here."

"Okay, fine - but how can we trust you if you're not being honest?"

"Because _we're _being honest about when we're lying, Laura!" she snapped suddenly, "_We_ aren't skulking around using phone taps and high-altitude video cameras to keep tabs on you!"

I gave Clint a surprised look, and received one in return.

"Ah, hmm," I said, "Okay. Point taken."

"_Thank_ you," Vi said. If she was aware of what she had just revealed, she didn't show it, "Please bring Thera back to the warehouse, and I'll deal with him here."

"Are you _sure_ we shouldn't just take him to the hospital?"

"They wouldn't know what to do with him, and they might just make things worse," Vi said, "And let's be honest; I'd hate for him to die before I had the opportunity to kill him myself. Metaphorically speaking, I mean."

"If you say so," I said, "Talk to you soon."

"Okay. Out."

The line went dead with a 'click', and I gave Clint an exasperated look.

"She sounded happy," he remarked.

"Yeah, and not so much as a damn 'thank you'," I said, "Maybe we _should_ just leave him in a ditch somewhere."

"I know just the one," Clint said, "Nice 'n' deep, out of the way...pretty tempting, doncha think?"

"Sure, except for the bit where the clearly-about-to-blow bodyguard fiancee tracks us down and kills us."

"I reckon I could take her."

"I'm sure you could, hon," I said, "But then we'd have Strange on our case for messing up whatever 'mystical' scheme he's got going on, so…"

"I s'pose," he said, "Anyway, I'm going to bring the car 'round. Let's drop him off at their warehouse and then head into town. The sooner we're clear of all of this, the better."

"Agreed," I took a quick sip of the coffee, and grimaced, "Jesus, Clint, this coffee is _terrible_."

"I know, right?" he said, with a cheeky grin, "No wonder this place is a mess."

"You _knew_? And you still gave it to me?" I slapped him lightly on the shoulder, "You...you _jerk_!"

"Ah, you've called me worse," he said, and scrambled away from the follow-up slap, "I'll go grab the car. Make sure Thera here doesn't go anywhere, okay?"

"Gee, are you sure I'm up to that?" I said tartly, "I mean, it's a big responsibility."

Whatever Clint muttered under his breath, it was hidden by the click of the door as he grabbed it and yanked it open. As he stepped outside something clearly grabbed his attention, and for a moment he stood there staring at the sky with a faintly stunned look on his face.

"Clint?" I said, "You okay, honey?"

"Yeah," he said, although his tone was distant, "Come and look at this, will you? Tell me I'm not just seeing things."

Quickly, I scrambled to my feet and joined him at the door.

"Look," he said, and pointed to the sky. The storm clouds overhead were still an inky black, malevolent maelstrom, and I struggled to see what had gotten him so shocked.

"I'm...not seeing-" I stopped. In the darkness, a small, but brilliant blue speck had winked into existence. A moment later, it was joined by another speck, this one gold, and together they glimmered like stars within the murky clouds. More appeared, and then more and _more_, twisting and merging together, growing in size and brightness as they swirled towards the shelf to form a radiant halo of blue and gold.

"My goodness," I said. Clint's jaw had dropped.

The halo began to contract. It was slow at first, but steadily picked up speed as it collapsed towards the centre of the storm. Storm clouds simply evaporated before it, and in its wake it left a coruscating shower of sparks as it raced inwards, glowing brighter and brighter until it hurt to look at-

-and then, with a loud _whump _and a rush of air that rattled the containers and rocked me back on my heels, the heart of the tempest exploded outwards in a glittering shower of light that hung in the air like a blue-gold flower. Slowly, it began to flicker and fade, leaving in its wake a clear, azure sky. Within moments there was no sign that the storm had ever been.

"Jesus," Clint said quietly, and added, "What was Strange talking about, exactly?"

"That the storm wasn't natural," I said, "I guess that kind of proves it, right?"

"I mean, I'm convinced," he said, "I've never seen anything like it."

"I wonder why they turned it off," I mused, and caught Clint's expression, "The storm, I mean. If you can _make_ a storm like that, why would you - and then why would you stop? Boredom?"

"Maybe they felt like they made their point? I mean, it got Strange's attention, _and_ it stopped just after he left."

"That's good, though. Strange wants whatever's doing it to stop," I said, "He's...kind of blackmailed Thera into dealing with it for him."

"Thera," Clint said flatly, "He's asked _Thera_ to stop the thing that just did that?"

"Well, talk to it," I said, and then added, "I _tried_ to get you the contract, but-"

"No no no, that's not the point," Clint said, "The point is that he asked _Thera_. What else did they say?"

"You mean when they weren't threatening each other? There was a point when I thought Thera was about to clean Strange's clock."

"...I don't like this," Clint said, firmly, "This feels like it's getting entirely too hot for my liking. It was okay when we were just dealing with Thera and...Violeta?"

"Viola."

"Yeah, but Strange? Whatever's generating this storm? That ain't part of my job description."

"What do you want to do, then?" I said quietly, "And what about that whole 'Phoenix' thing?"

"I reckon we make it Strange's problem. If he knows Thera like you said, then we'll let the good doctor keep an eye on him. We can always lend a hand if he asks - but we ain't going up against something that can do what we just saw. That's madness."

"You took on Thanos."

"I had a bit of help," he said, with just a _hint_ of false modesty, "Like an army of aliens, supersoldiers, and actual gods. I don't know about you, I don't see any of those camping out anywhere around here."

"I thought you said they just stood around and cheered you on," I smiled, "Y'know, while you punched him clean across the state."

"That's the story I'll be telling our grandchildren, alright," he said, "And I'd...kind of like to be _alive_ enough to tell them that story. Staying involved with this now it's escalated like it has? It's suicide."

"You're...you're right, of course," I said, "It just - well, it feels like we came this far, and to go home now and not find out what's _actually_ going on? It kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"I know, hon," Clint smiled crookedly, "Until today it was kinda fun, too. Maybe we should go into the mystery solving business."

"Sounds good. When we get home you can solve the Mystery of Why The Dishes Never Get Put Away, but for now we'd better get Thera out of here. Any moment now people're going to start poking their heads out of their containers, and they might just object to us kidnapping their resident doormat."

"Yeah, point taken," he said, "I'll go get the car."

After Clint had gone, I stood on the doorstep staring disbelievingly at the sky. As much as I hated the idea of giving up and going home, I had to admit that he was right. Stalking Thera and Vi had been..._fun_, in its own strange way, and for the most part it had seemed pretty harmless. Irritating, maybe, and possibly kicking in that door had been a step too far, but for the past couple of weeks it'd felt like I had been given a door into the part of Clint's life that had previously seemed so far away. An exciting double life filled with high-tech gadgets, deception, and kicking in doors had its appeal, and until today I hadn't given a second thought to returning to a life involving tile grout and floor wax.

But then, there _was_ today. My encounter with Caleb had poured cold water on any idea of this being 'fun'. Thanks to that sadist, Clint had been hurt, _I_ had been hurt, and Thera had been reduced to an emotional wreck and then a comatose heap on the floor. We had been _lucky_, too; he could've simply murdered us in cold blood, there in the street.

No, the game was over. I had responsibilities. I had three amazing children, and there was no way I was going to risk my life and their happiness just to get another adrenaline fix. Besides, I desperately needed to reseal the ensuite bathroom, before five years of mold buildup made it unusable…

Before I could think on it any further, I was shaken from my reverie by the sounds of tyres on gravel, and a moment later our car came crunching around the corner, gleaming wetly in the noonday sun. Clint parked up as close to the walkway as he could and motioned me over.

"'Forgot about the kids seats," he said, a little apologetically, "Reckon we can prop him up in the back? 'Cause otherwise we might actually need to put him in the trunk."

"I'm _not_ turning up at Vi's with him in the trunk, Clint," I said firmly. He sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Didn't reckon so," he said, and smiled, "It was worth a short. Anyway-"

Somehow, and with a fairly large number of false starts, we managed to lift Thera's limp, surprisingly heavy frame onto a table, which we then carried outside as a makeshift stretcher. The shifting ground underfoot made it hard going, and I was already sweating by the time we managed to half-lift, half drag him into an available back seat. From there, actually strapping him in was a comparatively simple matter, so I left that to Clint while I went to relax my aching muscles in the passenger seat. After a couple of muttered curse words I heard a distinctive 'click', and then my husband got back behind the wheel.

"Right. Let's get out of here," he said shortly, "I think I've had enough of this place for...well, ever."

"Me too," I said, although I felt bad as I said it, "Whatever else, I can't imagine actually being _stuck _here."

"Yeah," Clint sighed, and fell silent. Gently, I reached across and patted him on the leg.

"It will be okay, hon," I said, echoing my earlier reassurance, "It _will_."

* * *

My husband remained silent as he carefully manoeuvred his way back to the front of the Blip Centre. With a grinding clang, the doors slowly slid open, and as soon as we were through the airlock Clint put the pedal to the metal. The world blurred, and then we were gliding down the highway towards the distant warehouse, leaving the mess of tarpaulins and glistening containers far behind us.

Beside me I felt the tension draining out of my husband's muscles, but the silence still felt...significant. Looking over, I could tell from the tightness around his eyes and jaw that he was thinking something over, but wasn't really sure how to broach it. Before, I might have let it lie, but by now I had had enough of leaving things to fester in the shadows.

"What is it, hon?" I said, quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" he said, "Oh...I was just thinking."

"About what?" I pressed, gently but firmly, "You _know _you can tell me anything."

"I know," he said, and gave me an affectionate smile, "It's nothing serious. It's kind of silly, really."

"Yeah?" I was relieved; I hadn't really been up for another unpleasant revelation, "Like how silly?"

"Well…" he gestured behind us, "I was just thinkin' about those poor guys back there in the Blip Centre, and how I didn't see that coming. But I didn't see _any_ of this coming."

"What'd'ya mean?"

"It might sound stupid, but I thought that if we succeeded, everything would've gone back to how it was before - y'know, five years ago," he shrugged, "D'ya know what made me realise how..._huge_ our victory was?"

"Seeing the kids?" I said, then added with _maybe_ a touch of narcissism, "Seeing _me_?"

"Nope!" he said, and then caught my raised eyebrow, "Babe, seein' you come running across that field was like something out of a dream - but that's what I _wanted_ to happen. You comin' back was part of the deal."

"Okay," I said, "So what was it?"

"Guess," he said, a little cheekily, "It's in this car."

"Um…" I looked around, but didn't see anything obvious, "The air freshener?"

"Nope."

"The...satnav?"

"Nope!"

I looked over my shoulder, "Not _Thera_, surely."

"Are you kidding?" Clint grinned wryly, "If I knew he was part of the package I'd've let Thanos win."

"Then...our clothes? The radio? This receipt?" I held the last one up for his inspection, and he shook his head, "Then I don't know!"

"Oh c'mon," he said, "You were lookin' _right_ at them!"

"Them...them…" my gaze alighted on the kids seats, and something clicked in my head, "You mean the seats? Really?"

"Bingo!"

"But...why? Because you had your family back?"

"Close, but not quite," he paused, as if not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words, "When I went to go buy this car, there were a load of people there. Some of them'd obviously Blipped, and were looking for a new car because their old one had been stolen, or had rusted, or broken down - y'know what I mean. But you know what really got me?"

"What?"

"The families. There were five or six of them, all buyin' kids seats, and you could just _tell_ from their faces that they were walking on air. The salespeople could've sold them those seats at any price and they would've paid it, 'cause it meant that they were parents again,'' he smiled gently, and I could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, "I remember there was this one woman who was crying and laughing the entire time I was there. The rest of her family must've Blipped, 'cause she was holding onto her partner and her son like she was never going to let 'em go. I'm telling you, watching her was like watching the sun come up."

I gave him a broad smile, but said nothing.

"It was just...overwhelming," he continued, "There was all this happiness and joy all around me, and I was thinking 'Wow, Clint. Look at what you and the guys pulled off. Laura would've been really proud of you!', and you know what? That's when it hit me. That's the moment that I realised that you weren't just a memory anymore."

"That's lovely, Clint," I said, sincerely, "It really is."

"Not sure the saleswoman thought so," he said, and winced, "One moment, she was selling me a car. Next, I was bawling on the floor like a baby."

"It was probably a pretty crazy day for her all around," I pointed out, "But you know what? I _am_ proud of you. More than I can say."

"I know," he said, "But...I just want _everyone_ to feel like how that woman at the car dealership was feeling, y'know? It doesn't feel right, leaving those guys at the Blip Centre to rot while others get to celebrate and…"

"...buy kid's seats?" I said, "I know, and this is kinda what Thera was going on about. The Avengers have done their flashy bit and saved the universe, but what happens now? Who gets the power back on when you guys have finished kicking ass? Who puts the broken families back together?"

"I don't know," Clint said, "I wouldn't even know where to _start_."

"Me either," I admitted, and glanced at the limp figure in the back, "But I think _he _does, and I'm pretty sure that's what he was trying to tell me."

* * *

Vi was waiting for us when we pulled into the parking lot. She was standing in the shade of the warehouse, next to a half-built table-tennis table which she'd wheeled out to serve as a makeshift stretcher. Her expression was hidden in shadow, but even at a distance the anger and tension seemed to shimmer around her.

"Oh ho; _somebody's_ not happy," Clint said, as we pulled up, "We'd better watch ourselves."

"Let me do the talking," I said, "Maybe I can calm her down."

"You can't calm someone down who doesn't _want_ to be calmed down."

"We'll see," I said, and opened the car door, "Hi, Vi."

"Laura," she greeted me. Her tone was pleasant enough, but I could feel the emotions roiling directly underneath, "Can you help me get my prize idiot onto this table? I need to get him inside."

"Sure thing," I said, "I mean, he's kinda heavy-"

"-I'll lift, you steer," she said. Moving quickly, but carefully, we managed to lever Thera out of the car and onto the stretcher, where she laid him down flat on his back and produced a torch from her belt. Quickly and professionally, she opened each eyelid in turn and examined the pupil with her torch. I wasn't sure what she was looking for, but from her expression she wasn't happy with the result.

"Classic burnout," she muttered to herself, and slammed a hand down on the stretcher, "Bollocks! Bollocks bollocks _bollocks_!"

"Will he be okay?" I said, anxiously.

"That depends on whether or not I bloody murder him when he wakes up," she said grimly, "I _thought_ we were past this bullshit! Damnit, Sparky!"

"Are _you_ okay?" I asked. She shot me a look filled with anger, but underneath the facade I could see the pain and guilt churning away inside. Her emotional state was at a fever pitch, and it was amazing that she was even as controlled as she was.

"Me? I'm fine!" she said, icily, "Why would _I_ be anything other than okay? I mean, sure, I got murdered just months before my wedding, I've been dumped in this heap called 'Missouri', and the love of my life is a goddamn martyr! What do I have to worry about? It's clear blue skies from here on out!"

"Vi, c'mon-" I began.

"Oh, don't 'c'mon' me," she continued, in the same frozen tones, "Do you want to know _why_ we're living in this warehouse in the middle of nowhere, Laura?" It's not 'cause I _want_ to live here. It's 'cause this _idiot_ wouldn't last a week at the Blip Centre before he'd destroy himself, compulsively helping everyone into a hole in the ground! You saw how they were with him, right?"

I exchanged a quick look with Clint, who gave me a nonplussed shrug in return.

"They...were looking to him for help?" I ventured.

"That's a nice way of putting it," she snorted, "They practically depend on him to make the sun come up, but that's exactly how he wants it! That's how he's arranged it! He _needs_ to be needed, and that Blip Centre is like a bloody dream come true!"

"I think you're being kinda harsh here, Vi," I said. Despite myself, I was beginning to feel anger stirring inside of me, "I'm pretty sure he hasn't arranged anything-"

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, "Then where's the Army? Where's the _help?_ I've checked; other Blip Centres are staffed up to the nines, and what do we have? Nothing!"

I exchanged a quick look with Clint, who gave me a nonplussed shrug in return.

"He...was asking someone to raise 'Central', if I remember," I said, "They weren't having any luck."

"Of _course _not," she said, "How hard do you think they've actually been trying? Wouldn't want to disappoint him."

"Vi-" I stopped. There wasn't anything I could say that wouldn't either be twisted to support her rant, or simply ignored outright. I'd seen this kind of mood enough times to know; hell, recently I'd seen it plenty of times in _myself_.

"I got him out. I _had_ to get him out," she went on, "But we had a deal! He'd only go there a couple of times a week, and we'd spent the rest of the time attempting to get back on our feet. Of course, no sooner is my back turned than he sodding _breaks_ that promise and goes haring off down there-"

"They rang him!"

"Of course they did!" she said sharply, "They _always_ ring him!"

"There were poisoned children!" I added, "Did you really expect him to just say 'no'?"

"Why not call an ambulance?" Vi retorted hotly, "I'll tell you why - because when he does everything, they _expect_ him to do everything! Why _not_ leave it all to him?"

"Maybe if he actually asked for help-" I stopped, but it was too late.

"You mean like he asked _you_ for help?" she said, caustically, "Remind me, Laura; what was it that you said?"

I winced internally, but I could feel the anger building further, "I have a family! We have our own problems!"

"What, and we _don't?_" Viola all but snarled, all pretence at civility gone, "You know what? Sparky _was_ right; when trouble crops up you run back to your little castle, pull up the drawbridge, and tell the world that it's not your problem and that 'everything'll get better'! Go on, tell me I'm wrong - because here's the thing, sweetie; things don't get better when you ignore them, or hide from them. They get _worse_. Much, much _worse_."

"So-"

"You can do what you want, of course," she continued, "But which sap are you going to call the _next_ time some kids get poisoned? Who are you going to call once _that _guy's been burned out and tossed away? How long are you going to play Laura Barton: Super Spy with the Comic Relief Avenger until you actually come out and start living in the _real_ world?"

"Hey!" Clint's head appeared on the other side of the car, and he glared at the ranting woman, "You better take that back-"

"Or what_, Hawkeye?_" Viola returned his glare, and then her expression turned scornful, "What else do you call someone who doesn't clean up after themselves?"

"Hey!" I shouted, coming to Clint's defence, "That's not fair!"

"_Isn't _it?" she retorted, "All this chaos, the Blip Centres, the orphaned children, even Sparky here! You know why it happened?"

"Because of Thanos!"

"Thanos was an inevitability," she waved it aside, "If not him, then _somebody_ would've eventually tried the same thing! The trouble is, the people we all _depended _on stopping him, that group of 'remarkable people'? They actually turned out to be a bunch of prima donnas who couldn't mount an effective defence if the universe depended on it!" she snapped her fingers, and added, "Oh, wait - it _did_. How unfortunate."

"You ungrateful son of a-" Clint paused, but his eyes were bulging dangerously. Vi either didn't see, or didn't care.

"Oh, it's not _your _fault, Hawkeye. This wasn't a job for the second-string Avengers," she said, in a rather patronising tone, "I mean do you really think you and that toy bow of yours would've made a difference? If you did, then _where were you?_"

"I was under house arrest!"

"Oh, I _am_ sorry," Vi sneered, "Next time a call goes out to save the universe I guess I'll have to stay back until I've paid off my overdue library books. Are you _mad?_"

"You wouldn't know what saving the universe looks like!"

"Neither would you! You only turned up for the playoffs!"

"_Enough_!" I shouted, loud enough that I was sure I'd wake up Thera, "Enough."

There was a long, tense pause, and for a moment I genuinely thought that Vi and Clint were going to come to blows.

"Vi," I said, in a cold, quiet voice, "I get that you're upset about Thera, and about being here, and...everything that's happened to you. But-" I held up my hand as she tried to speak, "-I will _not_ let you speak to my husband that way. He's one of the only reasons we're even here! And that group of 'prima donnas'? They _died_ for us! Nat _died_ for us! I mean, how can you stand here and be so dismissive of them after everything they've done?"

Viola had no response to that; in fact, I was surprised that she suddenly seemed to be unable to meet my gaze.

"And let's be honest, Vi," I continued, emboldened by her response, "If you're so amazing, why was _I_ the one who had to bring down Caleb? Why did Thera end up with this knife wound right up his arm and get shot at twice if you, his wonder fiancee, are such an amazing bodyguard?"

_That_ hit home, and I felt a slight twinge of regret as I saw her eyes flicker guiltily to her unconscious partner. Even so, I was still too mad to stop myself from twisting the knife that little bit further.

"_We_ didn't fail Thera, Vi," I said, "Neither Clint nor I promised to protect him, or support him, or stop him from going too far - but you know what? We tried our damndest to do so anyway! Clint stopped Caleb from shooting at him, we tried to keep him calm when he was freaking the _hell_ out, and I stood up to a damn Master of the Mystic Arts so Thera could get some damn shuteye! I could've been turned into a frog! If anyone's failed him here, it's _you_...and I think you know it."

"Sod you!" she snapped suddenly, but I could hear the wobble in her voice, and saw that her eyes were already starting to glisten, "Sod _both_ of you."

"Yeah. I think we're done, Vi," I said, firmly, "I don't know what you, Thera, and Strange are involved in, and we don't know what this whole 'Phoenix' thing is that you've got going on, but we don't want any part of it. You go do your thing, and we'll do ours. Clint?"

"...yeah?" he said, a little warily.

"We're going," I said, and went back to the car, "Goodbye, Vi - and you're welcome."

Vi stood numbly, staring between Thera and our car with a shocked expression on her face. With a cold shrug, I sat down and swung the door closed behind me..

"Wait-!" she said, suddenly, but the car door shut with a very final 'click'. Clint started the car, and we quickly rolled out of the parking lot back towards the main road. In the wing mirror I watched the forlorn woman watch us leave; small, lost, and almost completely alone.

"Screw 'em," Clint growled, and put his foot down hard on the accelerator, "Screw 'em _both_."

With a lurch the car leapt forwards, and she was lost to view.

* * *

It was fair to say that our bust-up with Vi cast a pall over our trip into town, and we completed the rest of the trip in silence. I could feel the anger rushing through my veins, raw, red, and powered by pure wounded self-righteousness. I'd never been spoken to like that before, by _anyone_, and I was damned if I was going to waste any more time on a half-crazed woman living out of a warehouse with her equally crazed fiancee. As far as I was concerned, Vi and I were _done_. If I never saw those two again it would be too soon, and whatever schemes they were concocting could be damn well left for Strange to deal with.

Still, if I was angry then Clint was furious in a way that I'd rarely seen before. His shoulders were bunched up, as tense as a drum, and his jaw was working constantly as he turned some choice phrases over and over in his mind. I patted him consolingly on the leg, and gave him a look that conveyed both my sympathy and anger at the same time. Nothing more needed to be said.

By the time we reached town my anger had started to lessen. Not by much, of course; I was still fuming, but at least I was able to think straight. From the way Clint jerked us to a stop and slammed his hand down on the parking brake, I guessed he still had a ways to go before he even reached _that_ point.

"Comic Relief Avenger?" he snarled, once the car had finished juddering in protest, "_Comic Relief Avenger?_ That bitch!"

"I know!" I agreed vigorously, "She had no right-"

"And my 'toy bow'?" he went on, "I didn't spend my whole life training to be a damn marksman to be mocked by some arrogant upstart who thinks that _she's_ some kind of one woman army!"

"And I can't believe she actually said those things to our faces!" I said, "Who the hell calls someone 'sweetie' in this day and age?"

"You know what? I reckon I should go back there and show her just what me and that 'toy bow' can do," he said, "She can look after Thera with just one hand, right?"

"No, hon," I said. I might have been furious, but that still sounded like a _terrible_ idea, "I think we should just try and forget about them and move on with our lives. Let's just leave them to their madness."

"Yeah, you're right," he said, with a little sneer, "She ain't worth the arrow, anyway."

We sat quietly for a little while, and I watched as the tension slowly drained from my husband's shoulders. Eventually, he turned to me and gave me a weak smile.

"Sorry," he said, "I dunno how she got me so angry, but-"

"I know," I said, and exhaled slowly, "How'd she get under our skins like that?"

"By being angry, ungrateful, arrogant, and dismissive?" Clint shrugged, "Take your pick."

"True," I said, "Okay, Clint; remember why we're here. We need to grab some scrapbooking stuff for the kids, and also some gas for the..._other_ thing. Do you think you can get the gas? I know the kind of stuff Lila likes."

"Sparkles and glitter?" he said, and laughed, "I'm not sure that's really how Nat'd like to be remembered."

"It's not _for_ Nat," I pointed out, "Not really, anyway. Besides, you know that she loved everything that the kids made for her, no matter how sparkly or glittery it was. How long did she keep Coop's thumb pot for?"

"Until it went down with the helicarrier," Clint smiled, "Yeah, you're right. Of _course _you're right."

"Always," I said, "So you can get the gas, then?"

"Yeah, but...what's the rush?" he said, "I reckon I'd rather spend some time with you."

"That's sweet, Clint," I said, "But you hate craft stores!"

"What're you talking about?" he said, "I _love_ looking at chintzy, overpriced crap! Scented candles are totally my jam!"

"Totally your…'jam'?" I raised an eyebrow, and he had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"I, uh, may have heard Coop saying that on the phone," he admitted, "But I'm good at crafting things! 'Sides, for all you know I could've taken up flower arranging or something while you were Blipped."

"Flower arranging?" I smirked, "It's a miracle you were even able to dress yourself, hon."

"What can I say? There was a lot of velcro involved," Clint spread his hands, "Anyway, let's go and see your friend about some glitter."

With a smile, I hopped out of the car - and stopped. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up and down the length of Main Street, and I felt momentarily dizzy and disorientated. _Everything_ had changed.

Ever since I'd been coming here, there had been five little shops standing near the fountain; a baker, a greengrocer, a cobbler, a butchers, and an electronics shop. They were gone; two of the fronts were boarded up and empty, while the remaining three were now a large supermarket. The fountain, previously the centerpiece and pride of the town, was now silent, and still.

A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I looked around wildly for an anchor, any sign of the place that I used to know. I found none; just more boarded up fronts or shops that I'd never seen before, looming over cracked paving slabs and a pitted road. The town felt...smaller, sadder somehow, and there was an air of decay that hung over the deserted street and sighed mournfully through the unkempt trees.

The world whirled, my legs buckled and I would have fallen but for Clint, who caught me and gently lowered me to the ground.

"What happened here?" I whispered. My lip was trembling uncontrollably.

"What happened everywhere, babe," my husband said, and pulled me into for a gentle hug, "When Thanos snapped his fingers...when you all died, life just kind of went out of the world. People've gone to the bigger cities..."

"But I was only here last month!" I protested, and then the sickness turned to ice, "I mean- oh my god..."

"I know," he said, softly, "I'm sorry."

"I…we…" my mouth opened and shut uselessly, and I suddenly found it very difficult to breathe, "Clint-"

"It's okay, Laura," he said, in the same soft tones, "It's okay."

A deep, wracking sob wrenched itself from my throat, and the tears were suddenly streaming down my face. I threw my arms around my husband's neck and buried my face in his shoulder as I wailed and wept for the lost town. His arms tightened around me, tender and comforting, and I could hear him murmuring something over and over in a kindly voice.

Eventually the tears ran dry. I released my death-grip on Clint's shoulder blades and sat back against the car. He followed suit, wiping at his eyes as he did so.

"Shit," I said eventually, "This is _shit_, Clint! If I close my eyes, I can just _see_ how it used to be. There was that shop over there-" I pointed towards an abandoned store, "-that used to sell those great bagels, and _there_-" I pointed to a spot by the fountain, "-used to be where they sold those ice-creams you liked."

"You mean the mint chocolate-"

"-don't say it, babe," I said, "Mint chocolate's an abomination. But there used to be _crowds_! There were stands, bands, and children playing in the fountain! There was a goddamn _parade_, Clint!"

"I remember," he smiled wistfully.

"But this? This looks like the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse. There's no life, no joy...it feels like it's just waiting to die. Maybe it's already dead."

Clint nodded silently in response.

"Is _this_ what Thanos really wanted? Is this what he thought would happen?" I went on, "He said that the people that survived would thrive - this doesn't look much like thriving to me!"

"He was mad, hon. Obsessed."

"I know. I wish I could've been there for you," I said, and my voice cracked ever so slightly, "I wish I hadn't Blipped."

"You mean that?" Clint said, "Even if it meant not seeing the kids for five years?"

"Every damn word," I said, with a forcefulness that surprised even myself, "You shouldn't have had to face this alone."

"A lot of things happened that shouldn't've," he said roughly, "But...here we are. Maybe we should go and see if your craft shop is still around."

"Oh, I think it will be," I said, "I don't think Donovan'd let something like the end of the world slow him down."

We walked hand in hand down the dilapidated street, passing closed shops, dying shrubs, and the occasional overflowing bin. Although there was nobody else out and about, I occasionally thought I saw a curtain twitch, and from Clint's slightly wary posture I could tell that we were being watched. Occasionally I heard a noise; a dog barking, the peal of laughter, but they sounded distorted and very far away, almost swallowed up in the unnatural, oppressive silence.

Our footsteps echoed noisily on the sidewalk, and I felt my hair stand up on end just like back at the Blip Centre. As I thought about it, I realised that there were more than a few similarities between the two; for a start, there was that same feeling of a pale, purposeless existence, like the last embers of a dying fire. There was something else, too; something I couldn't quite identify, but I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I just wasn't welcome here anymore.

Clint must have sensed my disquiet, as he gave my hand a squeeze and said, quietly, "You okay, hon?"

"I think so," I said, "You know what? I think part of me _knew_ that it was going to be like this."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. We used to come into town all the time, but I haven't been back here since we Blipped. I know we've been busy and everything, but until a couple of days ago I couldn't even admit that I'd died. I think coming here and...seeing everything like _this _would've been more than I could take."

"Maybe we shouldn't bring the kids just yet, then," Clint said, and looked around wryly, "Not that there's anything for them to do anymore."

"Yeah," I said, and looked around, "It's really odd. Part of me thinks that I just came here last month, and the other part _knows_ that I haven't been here in half a decade. It's...difficult to describe."

My husband thought about it, "Kinda sounds like a weird form of deja vu."

"I suppose…" I shrugged, "But you know what else is odd? I watched myself die a bunch of times without so much as a whimper. My favourite bagel store vanishes? I'm crying like a damn baby."

"It's not odd," Clint reassured me, "Everyone handles shock and grief differently. You know how you said it was going to take a while for me to really accept that you and the kids are back? It's going to take you a while to really accept that you and the kids were _gone_. This kinda shoves it right in your face."

"I get that," I said, "But I don't want to have a breakdown every time I can't find a baked goods store!"

"So what if you do?" he said, a little challengingly, "You think I only cried _once _over your deaths? Every birthday, every anniversary, Christmas, Snap Day...it was like having the bandage ripped off every damn time-"

I had been half-expecting it, but the now-familiar spike of anger was still almost overpowering. I felt every muscle go tense at once, and there was a whistling in my ears that drowned out Clint's voice. Suddenly I wanted to scream, or lash out, or hit something, but a little voice came from somewhere deep inside.

"_Count to four, Laura. Count to four..."_ strangely, it sounded a little like Thera, and the memory flashed up of him trying desperately to control his breathing in the face of Bulkagov's torture. Following his example, I took several slow, shuddering breaths, and felt the anger slowly fade away.

"-but I'll be there, I promise," Clint was saying, "Hey, hon; are you there?"

"What?" I blinked, and gave him a bright smile, "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry; just zoned out for a moment."

"Okay…" he gave me a curious look, but went on, "I was just saying that if you need to cry, then go ahead and cry. I'll be there for you, I promise."


	11. Chapter 11: My Family and Other Ghosts

Chapter Eleven: My Family and Other Ghosts

Donovan's craft shop _had_ survived the end of the world, but I wasn't really in the mood to spend time listening to him talk about my 'aura'. As quickly as we could, Clint and I grabbed a scrapbook and some glittery things and made a break for it. The town still felt creepy, dying, and _wrong_ as we headed back to the car, and I didn't start to relax until it was a distant smudge in the rear view mirror.

We stopped over briefly at a hardware store to get Clint's gas and came straight home. As the car crunched up the gravel path leading to the farmstead, I took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, as I felt the tension slowly begin to drain away.

"_Why,_" said my mocking little inner voice, _"If it isn't our very own castle. Nice little sanctuary we have here, right? Safe and sound, away from the world…"_

I rolled my eyes, but said nothing as I brought the car to a halt just outside the front door. Clint got out immediately and headed upstairs with a grim look on his face, while I went around to the side to the fire pit. Long ago, we'd set aside part of the yard for toasting marshmallows, cooking outside, and teaching the kids how to be safe around fires. It had fallen into disuse as Coop and Lila got older, but after we'd Blipped back Clint wanted nothing more than to cram five years of barbeques and smores into a two week period. If I was being honest, I was now thoroughly sick of the smell of woodsmoke.

Still, we had a job to do, and that meant I needed to get the fire going. I quickly gathered up some kindling and some of Coop's chopped wood, as well as the flint and steel. By the time Clint came back downstairs with a large reinforced case, the fire was well underway and licking hungrily at the logs. The damp wood cracked and popped as it let off moisture, and the tell-tale smell of burning oak slowly began to fill the air.

My husband looked briefly at the growing fire and nodded once, "Nice."

"I try," I said, and he flashed me a wry grin as he put the case down, "Is that your…"

"Yeah," he said, curtly, "Stark gave me this case to make sure that all my..._things_ would be kept safe. It's bulletproof, bomb proof, and check this out-" he put his hand to a small blue light on the front. There was a 'beep' and then from somewhere inside, the 'click' of a latch releasing, "Biometric lock, protected with quantum encryption."

"That sounds good," I said, and then shrugged, "...is it good?"

"Unless you're me, the only way you're getting inside _this _case is if you can walk through walls," he said, and carefully lifted the lid. Inside, there was a nondescript brown leather cloak, a hood patterned with gold filigree, and a pair of what I assumed were metal armguards. Clint took a long, deep breath and carefully removed each item, placing them gently on the ground near the firepit.

"These were Ronin's clothes. _My_ clothes, I guess," he said, in a rather strained voice, "I always kind of thought that I'd end up dying in them. Never, _ever_ thought I'd be standing here with you watching 'em burn."

"It's for the best," I said, gently, and he nodded, "Would you like to say something?"

"Do you think it'd help?"

"Ronin's been part of you for years, hon, whether you like it or not," I said, "You should probably say goodbye."

"Yeah. You're right," he said. With some solemnity, he picked up the cloak and hood and dropped them into the fire. The flames flared up and claimed the garments with thick orange tongues that wrapped tightly around the black leather. I stepped back as a pungent stench filled the air but Clint stayed put, staring into the fire with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I...was wrong," he said, as he watched the clothing bubble and char, "When Thanos murdered you, I was helpless. I looked away for _one second_ and Lila was-" his voice cracked, and he fell silent. I put a consoling hand on his shoulder, blinking back tears, and he gave me a sad smile in response, "Gone. She was gone. And so were you. What could I do about that?"

"Nothing," I said. My voice was wavering, but firm, "There was _nothing_ you could have done. And it wasn't your fault."

"I suppose that doesn't really matter now," he said, "But how did I get so _lost_? I told myself that I was cleaning up after Thanos, and...y'know, stopping others from feeling as helpless as I did…" he looked back at the blackened clothes, and his lip curled contemptuously, "But you know what? In the end I was a damn animal. I just hacked 'em down where they stood."

"It's okay, Clint."

"No, it ain't," he said, "How can I look the kids in the face and tell them that I murdered all those people? They think I'm a hero-"

"You _are_ a hero. Everybody knows you are," I said, "But you said it yourself; being a hero can be complicated. You don't get to make those easy choices."

"They'll hate me."

"No," I shook my head, "They might be confused, but I don't think they'll ever _hate_ you. They'll see what I see; a good man who lost his family _and_ his world. You just...tried to do the best you could."

Clint stood in silence for a long time as Ronin's costume slowly turned to ash and drifted away, "Ronin was a mistake, Laura. Nat tried to reach out to me. She really _tried,_ but I cut her off. I cut _everyone_ off, and a lot of people got hurt 'cause of that. That won't happen again. No matter what happens, I promise you I'm gonna be better."

"I'm glad," I said, and gave his hand a squeeze, "And you're not alone now, Clint. Whatever we do, we'll do it together."

"What about the kids?"

"We'll tell them when they're older, hon," I said, "When they'll understand."

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, and then his eyes returned to the case, "Well, aside from these gauntlets, I guess there's just one thing left to deal with."

Carefully, he reached into the case and withdrew a long, slim object wrapped in matte black silk. With an almost reverential air, he carefully removed the cloth and allowed it to flutter gently to the ground, revealing a long, curved blade with a simple blackened hilt. The polished steel caught the firelight in strange and unsettling ways, and I felt a chill pass over me as I studied the carefully honed edge. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting; some kind of ornate, gilded blade with elaborate carvings, perhaps, or possibly even something that hummed and glowed with Stark technology. By comparison, this sword seemed far too..._unremarkable_ to have caused the deaths of over two hundred people. Somehow, that just felt wrong.

"_You've got it backwards, Laura,"_ said the little voice, _"The weapons you're thinking of are meant to be seen so they never _have _to be used. This one isn't meant to be seen."_

"You okay, hon?" Clint said. Shaken from my reverie, I looked over and saw him staring anxiously back.

"I'm fine," I said reassuringly, "I just wasn't sure what I was expecting. It looks very..._efficient_."

"It is," he said, "Perfectly balanced, made of the best steels...it certainly did its job. Feels a bit heavier than I remember, though."

"You need to work out more, then," I said, and patted him on the stomach, "'Maybe do some more crunches while you're at it."

"Nah, I'm probably just imagining things," he said, and gave it an experimental swipe, "Hey, you see that nick?"

I craned to look. About two thirds of the way up the blade, almost invisible to the naked eye, there was a small notch in the otherwise unbroken edge.

"It got that when we were fighting Thanos," he grinned wryly, "'Turns out those things he brought with him were a bit tougher than your average human."

"It really _did_ do its job, then," I said, "It kept you safe until we came back."

"I guess; I hadn't really thought about it like that," he conceded, "But I've gotta destroy it, Laura. If anyone found it…"

"Yeah, I know," I said, "And I know how hard it's going to be for you."

"Actually? It ain't," he said, "I guess that I'm kinda trading it for a better future; y'know, one with you and the kids in it. That seems like a fair deal to me."

"So...where do you want to do this, then?" I said, "How long's it going to take?"

"Between this and the gauntlets? Maybe an hour?" he said, "I need to get 'em good and hot so's they soften up, and then I'll break 'em down into little bits with the hammers. Next time we make a dump run I'll toss the bits in the scrap."

"Well, we'd better be quick then," I said, and tapped my watch for emphasis, "Nate and Lila'll be home in just over an hour, and you _know _they'd want to know why we're melting stuff down in the yard."

"Oh, I'll do it out back," he said, and added, "Alone. Your overalls probably ain't fireproof anymore."

"They aren't?"

"Would you trust 'em? They've been sitting in that garage for the past five years and they're _covered _in oil."

"Oh, yeah," I winced, "That was from when I fixed the generator."

"They ain't safe," he said, "One spark and they could-"

"I get the picture," I said, and added 'new overalls' to my mental shopping list, "I'll stay out of the way."

"You can watch from the window if you want," he said, as he stopped to pick up the gauntlets, "Y'know, if you're worried I'll try and hide the sword or something."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," I smiled, too sweetly, "'Cause you and I both know that if I find out you've done that, you'll wish that the Yakuza had gotten to you first."

* * *

Honestly, I was pretty relieved that Clint didn't want me hanging around for his sword-smashing ceremony. The aches and pains from my fight with Caleb were coming back with a vengeance, and with them a weariness that was settling deep into my bones. Moving carefully, I took the scrapbooking materials from the car, staggered inside, and flopped down on the sofa with a sigh of relief.

From outside I could hear the clatter of metal and an occasional grunt of exertion as Clint got everything set up. Eventually, there came the telltale 'click-click-click' of a striker, followed by a 'whump' and roar of flame. Satisfied, I settled back into the soft cushions and felt a subtle knot of tension slowly start to relax. I didn't _really_ think the sword presented a big danger to us, but its destruction severed yet another link between Clint and Ronin, and as far as I was concerned that could only be a good thing...

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew I was being jolted awake by the rhythmic, ringing clang of a hammer beating metal. As I sat up I felt white hot agony sear across my back as my muscles protested the sudden movement. A moment later, my legs joined in as I slowly levered myself to my feet, cursing inventively as I leant on the sofa arm for support.

"Damnit!" I fished desperately in my pocket for the nondescript pack of pills that Thera had given me. Yeah, he was an unknown who _may_ be up to no good, but I'd also watched him walk a torture victim down the stairs and pull an arrow out of Caleb's hand with almost no complaint. Surely these were legit, right?

"_Well, it's a choice between these and the ibuprofen upstairs,"_ said the little voice, _"All the way up those long, long stairs…"_

With a groan I limped into the kitchen, downed two with a glass of water, and sat down while I waited for some relief. Almost instantly I felt a deep, warm feeling build in my chest, as if I had just drunk a cup of rich, thick hot chocolate. It was soothing, gentle, and as the warmth suffused my body the aches and weariness simply melted away. A sense of deep peace and serenity stole over me, and I sat there with a small, unfocused smile on my face as the world drifted casually past my warm little cocoon.

Eventually, the feeling faded, and too soon reality reintroduced itself with the harsh banging of Clint's efforts outside. With a slight twinge of regret, I crammed the pill bottle back into my pocket and stood up, fully expecting another stab of pain. There was nothing; in fact, I felt _great_, as if I'd just been massaged from head to toe. Curiously, I bent over to touch my toes, and then when even _that_ failed to hurt I pinched myself, hard, to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

"Huh," I said, and took the pills back out for inspection. To my untrained eye, they seemed just like any other pill, but no painkiller I'd ever had had felt like _that_. Just what _had _Thera put in there, and what else had he been playing with?

Almost involuntarily, my gaze shifted from the pill box to the bandage still wrapped around my hand. The events of the day had darkened the previously pristine white dressing to a light brown, but it had remained intact and secure despite my time in the mud. It definitely _appeared _to be normal, but at the same time it occured to me that Thera had been _really _insistent on replacing Clint's handiwork. With a frown, I gave one of my abused knuckles an experimental prod, and then with a shrug and a muttered 'to hell with it' I cut the knot and carefully unwrapped the fabric. Ribbons of material fell to the floor until, at last, I looked down and saw fresh, baby-pink skin staring straight back at me.

"Well, well, well…" I said, staring at the healed skin with a small sense of self-satisfaction, "What_ are_ you playing at, Thera?"

At that very moment I heard the telltale crunch of feet on the gravel outside. I quickly gathered up the discarded bandage and tossed it in the garbage just as the front door clicked open and Lila and Coop came rushing in. I looked at my daughter's bright, smiling face and with a slight pang I thought of Poppy back at the Blip Centre, alone and waiting patiently for parents who might never come. With some effort, I banished the thought as hard as I could and forced a bright smile for my children.

"Hi, kids!" I said, and greeted them both with a hug and a kiss. Both Thera and Poppy could wait.

"Mom! Mom!" my daughter said, "Did you get the scrapbook? And the glitter?"

"I did, Lila," I said, "But-"

"Great! I can't wait to make it!" she said, and before I could stop her she'd danced away and bolted upstairs, "Be right down!"

"Well, _she's_ in a good mood, " I remarked, "What happened at school?"

"I'd better let her tell you, mom," Coop smiled, and for just an instant he was the spitting image of his father, "She'd kill me otherwise."

"Sure," I said, and added, "You have a good day?"

"More Blip class," Coop shrugged, "It's kinda dull."

"It's important, Coop," I said sharply, "We need to know what happened while we were…"

"Dust?"

"I guess," I said. I didn't really want to say 'dead', but 'dust' wasn't a whole lot better, "I know it's weird, dear."

"Yeah," he said, "I remember some of the guys around school being kids, and now they're _my_ age. They're pretty cool, though; I was gonna go hang out with some of them after we've done this scrapbook for Lila."

"As long as you're back before dinner," I said, and added, "You know this scrapbook's for you too, right? I know she kinda forced the issue..."

"It's okay, mom," he said, "It's important for her. Is Dad home?"

"Oh, he's just finishing some stuff up outside," I said, and Coop jumped as resounding _'clang'_ echoed through the house, "I wouldn't go out there until he's finished up, though."

"Sure thing, mom," he said, and then frowned, "Mom? What happened to your _neck?_"

Thankfully, Lila chose that exact moment to emerge excitedly from her room, and she came thumping down the stairs two at a time with a bright, beaming smile on her face.

"Scrapbook, mom?" she said eagerly.

"Sure," I said, smiling almost despite myself, "Bag's in the living room; go get it set up on the table."

"Yay!" she said excitedly, and vanished. A moment later, there came the telltale rustling of plastic, and then a 'thump' as something heavy hit the coffee table.

"Coop, could you do me a favour? Get on the computer and print out all the pictures we've got of Auntie Nat. By the time you're done there I reckon Lila'll have covered everything in stars and glitter. You know what she's like."

"Sure, mom," he said, and gave my neck another careful look, "Sure."

"Thanks, kiddo."

I found Lila kneeling at the coffee table, hard at work on the scrapbook. Tubes of glitter, stars, and sparkly pens were scattered wildly around her, and she was carefully writing the word 'Auntie Nat' on the front with a stencil and a ruby red pen. Her expression was one of intense concentration, and her tongue was poking out of the corner of her mouth. Not wanting to disturb her, I sat down on the sofa and waited patiently while she finished the cover with the addition of a red, heavily stylised hourglass on the bottom.

"'Cause she's the Black Widow, mom," she said, "I learned about them in school last year after Hunter got bit by one. Me and Maisie…"

She stopped, and then gave me a bright, if rather fake smile.

"Well, they've got red hourglasses on their bodies. That's how you know it's a Black Widow!"

"That's right," I said, and looked approvingly at the front cover, "That looks great, Lila. You going to decorate the inside?"

"Yep!" she said, and blew gently on the gel until it dried, "I made a new friend today, mom!"

"That's great!"

"Yeah! Her name's Allegra! She likes _Samurai Unicorns_ just as much as me, but 'cause she didn't Blip she got to see all the movies when they came out! Did you know that there's been another _four_ movies? She said the last one was-" she paused, and then said slowly, "'Ca-non di-ver-gent'. I don't know what that means, but she said it wasn't any good."

"We'll have to have her over at some point, I guess," I said. Lila smiled, and carefully opened the book, "How'd you meet her?"

"Oh, her older sister Arietta Blipped just like we did, so now she's her _younger _sister. Isn't that weird?" she paused, "Anyway, she was wearing a 'Kirin' shirt when she got Arietta at lunchtime and Kirin's my favourite character too, so we just started talking!"

"Sounds like you really hit it off."

"Yeah!" Lila nodded, "Arietta's nice too. Allegra said she really missed her when she was gone, and she's really happy that she's back! Her parents are really happy too; they're gonna have a party next weekend to let everyone who Blipped know how happy they are they're back. We're invited, mom!"

"That's nice of them," I said, "Do you know who her mom is? Maybe I should talk to her."

"She's not weird, mom. Not like Maisie's mom."

"I know, but I should get to know her anyway," I gestured at the book, "Anyway, are you going to glitter that book up or not?"

"Sure," Lila said, and flipped open the book, "I reckon this page needs some stars; maybe some red and gold ones…"

"You know, there's another girl who really likes your TV show," I said, as she got to work, "She's your age, too."

Lila looked up curiously, a star still stuck to her index finger, "What's her name?"

"Poppy."

"I don't think there's a Poppy at our school, mom."

"No, she's...she doesn't have her parents, Lila," I said, and plunged on, "Some kids didn't Blip with their parents, and they don't know where they are."

"Oh," my daughter stopped for a moment to think about this, and I saw a sudden flash of fear in her eyes, "She must be really scared."

"She's very brave; just like you, actually," I said, and ruffled her hair gently, "But I thought maybe we could go and see her at some point, just so she's not all alone."

"I could bring some of my DVDs," she said, "Do you think she has a Blueray player?"

"I'm sure that Thera-" I stopped and sighed internally, "I'm sure that there's a Blueray player. Or maybe we could bring ours."

"Yeah," she said. Apparently satisfied with this answer, she bent back over the scrapbook and began industriously applying stars and glitter around the edges of each page. I settled back and watched her work, only interrupting occasionally to remind her not to put _too_ many stars on a single page, and, of course, to leave room for the actual pictures.

"_She's not the only one who's all alone," _murmured my treacherous inner voice, _"Or the only one who's scared."_

"You be quiet!" I said, and felt a sudden pulse of anger, "She made her choice."

"_Sure. Let's just take a moment and review how you treated Clint after we Blipped back, shall we? I wouldn't be getting too high and mighty if I were you. Everyone-"_

"Mom?" Coop's subdued voice cut across my internal argument, and I looked up to see him bringing in a stack of pictures in varying shapes and sizes, "I printed them out, like you asked."

"Thanks, Coop," I said, and took a photo from the top of the pile, "Can I have a look, ple-"

My breath caught in my throat. I remembered this photo; it'd been taken two years ago during a perfect summer's day. The kids had been out playing in the fields while Nat and I sat on the porch swing and drank lemonade. Clint had taken the picture by surprise just as she'd cracked a joke that'd made me spray lemonade halfway across the porch; I was doubled over, desperately wiping at my face, while Nat…

Nat was smiling. Her face was slightly turned away from the camera as she reached for a napkin, but my husband had still managed to capture the slight quirk in her lips and crinkling around her eyes. In that moment, she hadn't been a professional killer, always scanning the horizon for the next threat, but one of my best friends.

Now she was gone.

"You okay, mom?" Coop said, carefully.

"Yeah," I said, and smiled a little glassily, "Just taking a trip down memory lane..."

He squinted at the photo, "Wasn't it her birthday? She used to tell me she loved spending it here."

"Let me see!" Lila piled in, "Oh yeah! That was two years ago! Dad let off some fireworks!"

"Seven years," my son corrected her, and I felt a slight twinge inside, "Remember?"

"Oh...yeah," my daughter paused and then started leafing through the other photographs, "Are the fireworks in here? Hold on…"

"You _sure_ you're okay, mom?" Coop repeated quietly.

"It was just a bit of shock, Coop," I assured him, "I'll be fine."

"Found it!" said Lila, and held up a photo showing Nat and my daughter standing out on the field, illuminated by the red glare of a dying firework, "Can we start sticking these in? Please?"

"Hold on, kiddo!" I said, "Your brother's printed out a lot of photos here. Let's go through 'em and choose only the best ones, yeah? We need to get the whole family in here at some point or another."

There was a click from the back door, and Clint poked his head around the corner. He was still wearing his overalls, and slung over his back was a large hessian sack, "You guys picking out photos for the scrapbook?"

"Yeah," I held up a hand, "And you'd better not be thinking about tracking all that muck through the house, mister!"

"No, no," he said, "I was just going to ask you to leave a space at the back. I've got a really special photo for the very end - but I've gotta go grab Nate and drop this stuff off at the scrapyard."

"Sure," I said, and turned to Coop and Lila, "Well, kids? Let's get to work."

Over the next hour or so we slowly went through the stack of photos, talking, laughing, and remembering the good times that we'd spent with Nat. _Here_ she was gently holding baby Nate, and _here_ she was beating Clint roundly at a game of chess. In one photo, she'd be sitting enjoying a quiet dinner with the family, and in the next she'd be play-fighting with Coop on the lawn or tarted up in camouflage paint, holding a water pistol in each hand.

"Are there ones in here from when she took us paintballing?" Lila asked, and laughed, "She took that _way_ too seriously."

"Yeah," Coop snorted, "I still don't know why I ended up on 'Fireteam Alpha'."

"'Cause you were the, uh, 'cannon fodder'," Lila said, and nudged him playfully, "That's what she told me."

"She told me the same thing 'bout you, squirt!" he said, "And then she went and shot up the enemy team almost by herself. I think they banned her after that."

"Yeah," Lila said, "You really should've come, mom. It was a great day."

"Another time, maybe," I said, and felt a sudden stab of regret. Of course, there wasn't going to _be _another time, "You know what? Maybe _I'll_ take you."

"_You?_" Coop said incredulously, "C'mon mom, be serious."

"You reckon I can't handle myself?" I said, "Who shoots the vermin 'round here when Clint's out on a mission, eh?"

"That's a shotgun, mom," he said, "You-"

"This one's pretty!" Lila interjected, "Isn't this when we went to the water park? Y'know, last...I mean _six_ years ago. I was so scared of that big slide!"

"You still went down it, though," said Coop, and paused, "I don't see mom, though…"

"I had to stay home with Nate, remember?" I said, and felt that stab again.

"You missed out, mom."

"I know, I missed out on a lot. I mean, look at these…" I leafed through the stack, and felt myself getting misty-eyed, "That trip to the zoo, the Independence day parade...here's that water park again…"

"That's not true!" Lila objected, and held up a couple of pictures, "Look; you're having fun with us here!"

"Those pictures're at the farm, hon," I said, with a weak smile, "How many times did I come _out_ with you and Auntie Nat? I always had an excuse, or thought that there would be another chance, but now…"

I sat back on my seat and covered my mouth with my hand, tears suddenly flowing freely. Coop and Lila looked at one another uncertainly, and then my daughter came to sit next to me.

"I'm sorry, mom," she said, "We shouldn't have done this scrapbook. It was a bad idea."

"No, Lila, it was a _brilliant_ idea," I said, and gave her a tearful hug, "You're both such amazing kids. I've always been so proud of how eager you've been to try new things, make new friends… while I stayed home and let everything happen around me. God knows what she thought of me..."

"Nat thought you were great, mom," Coop said, "She always used to say that you took one for the team by marrying Dad."

"I think that was a joke, hon," I said, and let my squirming daughter go, "But thanks anyway."

"She also said something else," he paused, and then went on, "She said not to tell you, but...ah, screw it."

"Language!" I said, and added, "...what did she say?"

"Uh, that when you worked out what you wanted to do - y'know, _really_ wanted to do, that you'd make her and the rest of the Avengers look like a bunch of chumps," he said, "She looked serious, too. I reckon she really believed it."

"That was...nice of her," I said, and wiped away the last of the tears, "Well, you know what I _really_ want to do right now, kids?"

My children - my _wonderful_ children - looked at each other for a moment, and then as one shook their heads.

"I _really _want to do this scrapbook," I said, "Let's make Auntie Nat proud."

* * *

By the time Clint returned, the scrapbook was almost complete. Pictures of Nat from happier times sat proudly on each page, surrounded by a possibly toxic level of glitter, stars, and other decorative niceties that Lila had found in her room. It was clearly about as far from Nat as anything could possibly be, but at the same time I knew she would have loved it to pieces.

Barely had the front door clicked shut than Nate came charging in, looking for attention and (more likely) his dinosaur collection.

"How's my little guy?" I said brightly, and scooped him up into a tight hug. My youngest had sticky fingers, and there was no way I wanted him anywhere near my other kids' hard work. Instead, I went to greet my husband with a bright smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"Everything dealt with, hon?" I said, quietly enough that Coop and Lila couldn't hear. He nodded once in response, and then turned his gaze to the scrapbook.

"It all done, then?" he asked, "'Looks good from over here!"

"Yeah. We're just waiting for your 'really special' photo," I said, holding the struggling Nate tightly to my hip, "You gonna go get it for us?"

"Yeah," he said, and as he went to head upstairs I saw the tension settle in around his eyes, "Just gimme a sec."

"Will do," I said, and set Nate down, "Go play with your toys, sweetheart."  
"But that's Auntie Nat!" he said, pointing to the scrapbook.

"I know," I said, and added, "But your brother and sister worked really hard on it, so let's not touch it - okay?"

"Okay!" he said, "I can't wait for her to see it."

"Me...me either," I said, and kicked myself internally for my cowardice. At some point, and it would have to be some point _soon_, I was going to have to explain to Nate why that couldn't happen. That would have to be a battle for another day, "Why don't you go see how tall you can make your marble run, okay?"

That seemed to satisfy Nate, and he rushed off to his little corner in the living room just as the heavy tread of boots on wood announced Clint's reappearance from upstairs. He was holding a glossy six-by-four photo protectively close to his chest, and both Coop and Lila crowded round as he brought it into the living room.

"Easy, kids!" he said, maybe a little harsher than he intended, "It ain't easy to get another copy of this picture, and...it's kind of important."

Without saying any more, he laid it down on the coffee table and stood back to let the kids get a closer look. I peered curiously over Lila's shoulder, and saw-

"This was the last photo that we ever took of her," Clint said gruffly, "Jus' before we went after the 'Stones."

-a lineup of the Avengers, at least those who had survived the Snap. They were standing against an off-white warehouse wall, all dressed in advanced, form-fitting combat armour in white, red, and gray.

"Looking good, Dad," my son said, and I had to admit that he was right, "You look like you're going to kick some ass."

"There's the Hulk," said Lila, pointing at the massive figure in the centre, "And there's Stark, and _there's_ Auntie Nat..."

"She dyed her hair," I said, looking at her red hair with some surprise, "When did she do that?"

"Some point after the Snap," Clint shrugged, "Dunno when."

"She looks tired," Coop said sadly, "Real tired."

I peered closer, and realised that my son was right. Whatever had happened during the Snap, it had aged her terribly. The lines around her eyes were more pronounced, and there was a grim set to her jaw that was obvious even through the smile. Despite that, I could still see the steely-eyed determination that practically defined her shining through as brightly as ever. This wasn't the look of a woman on the brink of collapse; it was the look of one who was just getting started.

"We were all real tired," Clint said, "But you gotta remember, kids, she spent every waking moment looking, working, and waiting for this shot. She wasn't goin' down without a fight - heck," he rubbed ruefully at his chin, "She _didn't_ go down without a fight."

There was a long silence while the children studied the picture carefully, broken only by the occasional background 'plink' of a marble falling down a plastic chute. Finally, Lila looked up at her father.

"Dad…?" she said, in a small, quavering voice.

"Yes, hon?" he said.

"Did Thanos hate us?" she said, "He had to, right? He took us away from you, and because of him Auntie Nat had to...to…"

Her eyes filled with sudden tears, and Clint knelt down in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Lila, honey," he said, "I don't think Thanos hated you, or me, or anyone else-"

"Then _how_ could he do this to us?" she wailed suddenly, "How could he take away Auntie Nat?"

Clint gave me a brief look, and then his face became set, "Because he didn't see us as people, Lila. To him, Snapping you away would've been no different to squashing a fly."

"Clint!" I protested, but he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, hon, but it's true. I know what I'm talking about, remember?" he said, and gave me a significant look, "When you stop seeing people as people and start seeing them as _things,_ it becomes real easy to be a monster."

"You mean like when people call us 'ghosts'?" Lila said, and sniffed, "Like when Maisie-"

"It's where it starts, hon," he said, "But it doesn't make Maisie a monster. If she was, she wouldn't be trying to help out in your Blip class."

"But-"

"What I'm _sayin'_ is that you'll have to be careful," he said firmly, "You'll be hearing a lot more about this over the comin' months; there'll be people dividing everyone up into those who Blipped and those who didn't. It ain't as easy as judgin' someone based on their race or if they're a boy or a girl, but you can bet they'll give it a try. "

"Remember that everyone's someone, kids," I said, and Clint nodded, "It doesn't matter if we Blipped or they didn't; we all have families, loved ones, dreams…"

"Your mom's right," said my husband, "And every time you look at this photo, just remember that everyone in it was there 'cause they loved the people they lost. The people who want to stir up trouble? They ain't worth botherin' with."

With some care, Clint placed the last picture in the scrapbook and then carefully closed the cover. The small red hourglass on the front winked and glimmered in the afternoon sun, and he smiled briefly before placing it up on the bookshelf, out of harm's way.

"Tell you what, kid," he said to Lila, "Would it make you feel any better if we played some archery tag?"

My daughter's face lit up suddenly, and she gave a happy smile, "Sure, Dad!"

"Coop?"

"I'm going out with my friends," said Coop, and I nodded briefly to Clint, "But mom…?"

"I-" the excuse was already half-formed and marching resolutely towards my mouth. but then I caught the expression on Coop's face and stopped, "You know what? I'll play."

"Great!" said Lila, apparently oblivious to the silent exchange, "I'll go get the bows!"

"You sure about this?" said Clint, a little anxiously, "Aren't you still a bit banged up from earlier?"

"I'll need to talk to you about that later," I said quietly, "But don't worry about me. Let's go and have some fun while we've still got the light, right? Nate can play on the porch."

Clint gave me a long, quizzical look, and then smiled, "Sure, hon. I'll go easy on you."

"Don't go too easy on me!" I protested, "I reckon I can put up a fight! I mean... maybe against Lila."

"Let's just see what she's got to say about that, eh?" he said, and his smile was positively nasty, "I think she might just surprise you."

* * *

It turned out Lila had quite a _lot_ to say about that, which I reflected on as I laid on the sofa later that evening. While I'd known that my daughter had inherited her father's skill with a bow, I _hadn't_ appreciated that she'd also acquired the same streak of ruthless pragmatism. Thanks to that, what I'd thought would be a nice run-around on the lawn swifty degenerated into a desperate scramble for cover while she took me apart with all the compassion and mercy of a contract killer. Not even the strange, warming powers of Thera's painkillers could completely ward off the feeling of a perfect shot straight to the solar plexus, and I winced and smiled as Clint sat down beside me holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"You know, I remember the first day you brought her that first bow," I said, as I gratefully accepted the offering, "That hideous pink one with the flowers?"

"She was going through a princess and unicorn phase, wasn't she?" Clint said, and laughed, "I thought it might get her to give it a go. After all, I want at least _one_ of my kids to learn my trade, even if it's as a hobby."

"Well, wish granted…" I said, and winced again as I shifted in my seat, "I didn't realise you were training a monster."

"Who would've thought that the kid who can barely sit still had the heart of a cold-blooded sniper?" he said, with some pride, "Gotta say, I didn't envy you out there."

"Have you thought about letting her compete?" I said, "I'm sure she'd do brilliantly."

"I'm sure she would," he said, and paused, "But this? It's kinda ourthing, and it's more fun when it's..._fun_, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do," I patted him on the leg, "I'm not sure 'fun' is meant to hurt this much, though…"

"not sure that's Lila's fault, babe," he said, "Caleb _did _throttle you half to death, remember?"

"Mmm," I said, and touched my throat, "Coop spotted that. 'Pretty sure he's going to have questions for me later."

"So what?" said Clint, "You took down someone who was trying to kill me. What's the matter with that?"

"The 'matter with that' is that since we Blipped back I've been in more fights than I've been in the last twenty years, and I'm trying to set a good example!" I said, "How can I tell him that brawling in the street is bad when I come home covered in injuries?"

"I dunno about that," he said, and nodded at my hand, "Your knuckles've healed up pretty well. _Really _well, actually."

"Yeah, about that..." I said, and flexed my hand, "When Thera changed the bandage yesterday, my knuckles were still pretty badly scabbed up. There's these, too."

I pulled out the painkillers and handed them to Clint, who gave them a curious look.

"Thera gave me these this morning, remember?" I said, "Well, I took two earlier-"

"You _took_ these?" Clint said incredulously, "Laura-"

"I was in a lot of pain, alright?" I said defensively, "And besides, the guy was in _pieces _after treating Bulgakov. Do you really think he's going to poison me?"

"Poisoners don't tell you that they're poisoning you until _after_ they've poisoned you, Laura," he said, and sighed, "Still, it doesn't really seem like his thing. I'm guessin' that they helped?"

"Like nothing I've ever had before," I said, and then smiled a little wistfully, "Well, not since high school."

He blinked, "You got high off these?"

"Maybe a little," I said, "But afterwards the pain was gone, and I mean _gone_. I felt great, right up until that one arrow hit me in the kidney...and that _other_ arrow hit me in the stomach."

"That _did _look painful," he agreed, "How d'ya feel now?"

"Okay...ish," I said. I could feel the stiffness starting to return, particularly where Lila had tagged me with her arrows, "Not as good as I felt earlier, that's for sure."

"Guess they aren't meant to last forever," Clint said, He tipped one of the pills out onto his hand and held it up to the light, "Hmm…"

"What're you thinking, hon?"

"I'm thinking nothin'," he said, "You either finish this pack, or we destroy 'em, and we leave it all well enough alone. Let's just say that this is Thera's way of thanking you for bringing down Caleb."

"But these pills and those bandages...shouldn't we at least send them off to Fury? Think about it; next time you get yourself blown up by a runaway Stark creation they won't need to fix you up in the Crucible!"

"'Next time'?" my husband looked a little hurt, "That only happened once!"

"You know what I mean, though."

"Yeah, I do," he said, and then a sly smile crept onto his face, "I also know what you _really_ mean, hon."

"Oh? What do I _really_ mean?"

"You want to keep on stickin' your nose into this whole business, don't you."

"No, I don't!" I protested hotly, "Like I told Vi-"

"C'mon, Laura," Clint rolled his eyes, "I'm not Vi. I can tell when you're lyin', like...right now."

"Damnit," I said, "Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah, but it's more than that, ain't it," he said, and it wasn't a question, "There's something _different_ about you. These past couple of weeks, you've had a restless energy about you. You want to do something; you're just not sure _what_."

"Dying will do that to a girl," I said, and he grinned.

"Yeah, I get it. You've thrown yourself into that whole business with Thera and Vi with everything you had, but then we ended up with murderers and magic and...these-" he rattled the pill bottle, "-which is right outside our pay grade. Trouble is, you don't wanna let go 'cause you don't know what you'll do with yourself if you aren't chasing them all around Missouri."

I was silent for a long time. He was right, of course.

"Look, hon, I ain't blaming you or anything like that," he said eventually, "But there's gotta be something you can do that doesn't get us involved with one of Strange's schemes. Y'know, something productive."

"Like chopping wood?" I said archly.

"Hey," he spread his arms, "If it was good enough for me…"

"Hah," I snorted, "Look, it's just that...I've been spending some time thinking about what I _did_ with my life. My previous life, I guess. I thought that living here with you and raising our kids was enough, but now... I'm not sure."

Clint looked like he was about to speak, and I quickly held up my hand to stop him.

"Don't get me wrong, hon, I don't regret any of it, but I just feel like I should be doing something _more_. Do you know why Vi got under our skins so easily earlier?"

"Because she was being a total asshole?"

"Well, yes," I conceded, "But she was also right! I've been spending half my life hiding away in my own perfect little world. I've sat here cheering you on from a distance while you suffered and bled and solved all the world's problems for me. Why? So I could go on living in my own perfect little world. Why was I doing that? Why wasn't I getting involved?"

"What, with the Avengers?" Clint raised an eyebrow, "Hon, you're a lot of things, but you ain't special forces material."

"Not with the Avengers; with _anything!"_ I took a deep breath, "Clint, when we were making Nat's scrapbook, I realised just how much I'd missed out on, both with her and the kids. I always had a reason to not do something...but then I died, and then _she _died, and for some reason _I_ was the one who got the second chance."

"You know it's not like that, Laura," Clint said.

"Maybe not, but I _can't_ spend my life haunting this farmhouse like I did before. Hell, I was a ghost before it was cool. I've got to do _something_."

"Sure," he nodded slowly, "Sure. What do you want to do? Name it."

"Well-"

"Just so long as it doesn't involve those two over at the warehouse. They're bad news."

"Yes, but-"

"Or archery tag," he said, "'Cause frankly that was just embarrassing."

"No, hon, but _thanks,_" I said acidly, "I'm pretty sure that I know what I _really_ want to do. I want to help those poor guys over at the Blip Centre, like Poppy and that Flora woman and all those others who're just _stuck_ there. There's gotta be something I can do- why are you smiling?"

"Because...I kinda sorta saw this one coming," he said, looking incredibly self-satisfied, "It was obvious just from how much time you spent trying to reassure me that it'd all be okay."

"Now who's being a total asshole?" I said, and slapped his shoulder lightly, "You could've said something!"

"What, and spoil your self-reflection? Never," he said, and added, "But what're you going to do?"

"I'm...not sure yet. But I'm pretty sure what I'll need to do to do it. I need to understand the problem," I took a deep breath and squared my aching shoulders, "And to do that, I need to learn about the Blip."


	12. Chapter 12: 273

**Chapter Twelve: #273**

For the rest of the evening, I lay on the sofa and watched the world float dreamily by as my aches and pains slowly caught up with me. Lila's TV time came and went in a confusing blur of angry, sword-wielding unicorns, while she sat next to me and bashfully apologised for shooting me in the face. Eventually, her show finished and she vanished upstairs, at which point I turned my attention to dinner.

"We're having takeout," I declared eventually, "I'm in the mood for Chinese. Besides, I can barely move."

"Are you sure?" Clint said, "I could make something."

I gave him a long, hard look. Five years of bachelorhood had done exactly zilch for his culinary skills, "No. Chinese."

"Okay, fine," he said, "I'll go find the takeaway menu…"

As he left, the front door clicked open and Coop came in. He looked tired and sweaty, but otherwise seemed pretty pleased with himself.

"Heya kiddo!" I said warmly, "'Have a good time?"

"Yeah," he said, and flopped down on a handy armchair, "'Went for a bike ride. It was pretty cool."

"What're your new friends like?"

"They're pretty cool too," he said, with a grin, "One of 'em kept asking me what it was like to Blip, though. She-"

"She?" an eyebrow went up.

"Yeah, mom, 'she'," he said, a little defensively, "Her name's Maria."

"Uh-huh."

"It's not like that!" he protested, although his cheeks went a little red, "She was just really curious, that's all."

"I bet she was," I said, and added, "Just you be careful, Casanova."

"Aw, mom!" he moaned, just as my husband re-entered the room bearing a small pamphlet. He gave us both a quizzical look.

"Coop here's picked up an admirer," I said, by way of explanation.

"What, a handsome kid like him? Never," Clint smiled, "D'ya think we're going to have to have 'the talk'?"

"You've already given me the talk like, three times already!" Coop protested, "Maria-"

"Maria, eh?" Clint said, and settled down next to me, "What's she like, then?"

"She's...pretty cool," said Coop, "We're all going to go out cycling again tomorrow."

"Were you now?" I said, and exchanged an amused look with my husband, "Do you think we should meet this 'Maria'?"

"I'm sure she hasn't heard 'the talk' yet," said Clint, "I've been meaning to turn it into a presentation…"

"You know, you guys aren't as funny as you think you are," Coop huffed, and reached for his pocket, "Hey, did you see this storm?"

He quickly swiped through his phone, and then handed it over. There were a number of images and videos of the Missouri landscape, all taken from different angles and of varying quality. What they had in common was the brilliant, blue-gold flower that had lit up the sky after the Blip Centre storm had collapsed.

"Yeah, we saw it," Clint said, "We got caught in it, actually."

"Do you think it's magic?" Coop said, and looked a little worried, "You don't think it's 'cause of the Blip, do you?"

"No, hon," I said reassuringly, "At least Strange didn't think so, and he didn't seem that worried about it."

"You met Dr. Strange?" Coop said, and I winced as Clint gave me a sharp look, "What were you doing?"

"Lookin' at the storm," Clint said, simply, "Like everyone else."

"But you talked to him? What was he like?"

"Honestly?" I paused, "Kind of arrogant and superior. Besides, _you've_ met him; he was at Stark's funeral."

"I _saw_ him," Coop said, a bit morosely, "But he didn't seem like he wanted to talk to a kid."

"I don't think he wants to talk to anyone unless they can do something for him," I said, and sniffed, "You would've thought that looking at fourteen million different futures would've taught him how to hold a decent conversation."

"Reckon he only looked up until Thanos died, hon," Clint said, "He just needed to know how to win the Battle of Earth."

"It's kind of...pretty, don't you think?" said Coop, and I heard a hopeful little note in his voice.

"Yeah," I agreed quickly, "It's a bit like the Northern Lights, if you think about it."

"I wish I'd seen it," he said, "But if it's not 'cause of the Blip, what do you think could do something like this?"

"Strange kept on calling it an 'entity'," I said, "But he said he also thought it had 'benign intentions', and I'm sure he knows what he's talking about."

"Oh, I missed that bit," said Clint, "When did he say that?"

"After he ran into Thera and almost got his head bitten off," I said, and grinned, "You should've seen his face; he didn't know what the hell had hit him."

"I'm pretty sure he ain't used to being yelled at. Mind you, Thera _was _kinda goin' off the rails."

"What're you guys talking about?" said Coop, suspiciously, "Was Thera looking at the storm as well? How does _he_ know Dr. Strange?"

"I'm...not sure," I paused for a moment. Telling Coop about the conversation that Thera and Strange had had would mean having to tell him about everything that had gone on at the Blip Centre, and that was a can of worms that I wanted to keep closed - at least, for now, "Thera wasn't always a therapist; he trained in emergency medicine. Maybe they met there?"

"Ain't no love lost between them, though," Clint added.

"Thera _did_ kinda have a point, though. The first time the world got a taste of magic, it killed half of us and left the other half to pick up the pieces. The last thing we need is a damn witch-hunt."

"What d'ya think is gonna happen when they learn that Dr. Strange subcontracted managin' this thing to Thera?" Clint laughed darkly, "There'll be riots in the streets!"

"Can you stop talking like I'm not here?" my son said, frustratedly, "You're saying that _Thera's_ also trained in magic? 'Cause that's what Dad's just said."

"I...um," even as I floundered, I found time to give Clint a sharp look of my own, "Well-"

"C'mon, mom; stop treating me like an idiot! I _know_ you and Dad have been up to something!"

"Watch your tone, mister!" I snapped. It was clearly the wrong thing to say, but at the same time he'd backed me pretty well into a corner.

"It's true though, isn't it!" he snapped right back, "How'd you get those marks on your neck, then? Did someone try to strangle you? Were you in _another_ fight?"

"I-"

"And don't lie to me, mom!"

"_Enough_, Coop!" Clint said, firmly, "Go to your room!"

"Not until you tell me what happened! This _isn't_ fair!" he said, and I was surprised to see tears forming in his eyes, "You think you're invulnerable just 'cause you already died once?"

"No," I said softly. The anguished tone in his voice had cut me to the quick, "No, Coop, of course not."

"Then what _is_ it? It's bad enough when Dad goes away, but now Auntie Nat's died - and you're...you're…" he sprang to his feet and stormed off, "Screw you!"

"Coop-"

"I'm going to my room, mom!" he shouted back, "Isn't that what you guys wanted?"

He stamped up the staircase, and a moment later the sound of a door slamming reverberated through the house. There was a long, tense silence.

"Well, that deteriorated quickly," I said eventually, and gave Clint a wan smile.

"He's just worried about you," he said, "After everything that's happened...look, I'll go and talk to him."

"No, Clint, I'll-aah, damnit!" I bit down hard as I got unsteadily to my feet, "_I'll_ go and talk to him. It's me he's angry at."

"Are you sure? What are you going to tell him?"

"What I should've told him down here; the truth," I said, "He's old enough to take it."

"If you say so," he said a little dubiously, "You need any help getting up the stairs?"

"Remind me; which one of us took down Caleb?" I said pointedly, "I'll be fine, thank you very much. You go order us dinner."

"What d'ya want?"

"You know what I like," I said, "Number thirty-seven, roast duck-"

"-with cashew nuts," he finished, with a wondering little smile, "Yeah...I remember now."

I returned his smile, and then reached out and ruffled his hair, "It's the little things, isn't it."

"They remind me why I do the big things," he said, and gave a shooing motion with his hands, "You go talk to Coop. I'll see if the Jasmine Garden's still in business."

The stairs seemed twice as long as they did in the morning, and my body made it's opinion known with every white-hot step. Now that Thera's painkillers had worn off fully every movement was a chore, but the last thing I wanted to do was to try and have a heart-to-heart with my son while tripping on whatever was in those pills. For now, all I could do was grit my teeth and power through the pain.

"Three kids," I muttered, as I hopped up another step, "_No_ epidural. This is...nothing!"

With another groan, I reached the landing and inched my way towards Coop's bedroom, holding onto the wall for support. With some relief, I reached for the doorknob, paused, and then knocked instead.

"Coop?" I said gently, "Coop, can I come in? I'm not angry; I just want to talk."

There was silence, but I could tell it was a hurt silence.

"No? 'kay, that's fine. I can talk out here, and you can decide if you want to listen or not,"

I sank down slowly, my back to his door, and took a long, deep breath, "Look, Coop...I know this has all been really shit, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to be Snapped, or lose Auntie Nat, or have to see Dad with..._whatever_ he's done to his hair. I bet it feels like the entire world's gone crazy, right?" I laughed bitterly, "I know how it is. You're sad, and scared, and angry, and you've every right to be. And you've got every right to be angry with _me_, 'cause God knows I haven't been myself since we came back…"

I put the back of my head against the door and drew my knees up under my chin, "The Blip was too much for me, Coop. I couldn't handle it. I...tried to pretend that it didn't happen. I shut out the world, even shut out your dad, and everytime he tried to talk to me about it I took his damn head off. I took _everyone's _head off; hell, I even became an Internet sensation. You remember that, right?"

The silence continued, but the door creaked gently, as if someone had leant against the other side.

"You're right, though; dad and I _have_ been up to something. We thought we had proof that Thera and Vi were up to no good. They had these documents, and they seemed to know everything about us..." I waved my hands indistinctly in the air, "So we stalked them. We did some things we shouldn't have; we used Stark's satellites, tapped their phone lines...and I got to sneak around and pretend that I was some kind of super spy. I thought that I was doing it for a good reason and 'cause it was fun and I could spend some time in Clint's world, but that's all bullshit. I was just doing it so I wouldn't have to face the truth."

I paused, unsure of what to say next. When I found my voice again, it was thick and unsteady, "The truth is...I'm scared. And it isn't just 'cause of the Blip; I've always _been_ scared. I'm scared of the world, and I'm scared of people. We don't just live down here 'cause Fury wanted us off the grid; _I_ wanted off the grid too. I wanted my own little perfect haven where nobody could hurt me, where I'd be safe…" I paused, and snorted, "'Turns out nowhere's really _safe_, though."

From somewhere on the other side of the oak panelling, I thought I heard a sniffle.

"Case in point? I got this lovely bruise protecting your dad. There was this bad guy who...well, that bit doesn't matter," I waved the details aside, "The point is that for once I didn't run and hide; I stood up for my family and I managed to stop him, even if I got a... bit strangled in the process. I'm not ashamed of what I did, but I _am_ ashamed that I tried to hide it from you. I was scared of worrying you, but I get now that the way I've been acting recently has been worrying you even more. I'm _really_ sorry, Coop, and I promise you that it's going to stop. No more amateur heroics, okay?"

I waited for a response, or at least some sign of life, but eventually it became clear that neither were going to be forthcoming.

"It's okay, dear," I said, and got to my feet with a sigh, "You don't have to say anything now. If...when you're ready then please come downstairs; we're ordering Chinese for dinner. 'Thought you kids wouldn't want another evening of salad."

In the end Coop didn't re-emerge from his room, and so dinner was a rather quiet, subdued affair. I was also saddened to hear that the Jasmine Garden hadn't survived the Blip. It had actually gone out of business two years ago, but Clint had done some digging and had managed to find a new one that had sprung up only last week. Somehow, their roast duck and cashew nuts was even better than the Garden's, and I reflected on this as I struggled to keep my dinner between my chopsticks.

"Just 'cause everything's changed doesn't mean it's got to be worse, right?" I said, and gave a sigh of irritation as some duck plopped back into my bowl, "It might even end up being better."

"That's the game plan," Clint agreed, and grinned at my feeble attempts to feed myself, "You want a fork, hon?"

"Are you kidding? I'm going to finish this with these if it kills me," I said, and added wryly, "Again."

"You're holding 'em too far down, mom!" said Lila, as she delicately plucked a cashew nut from her bowl and popped it in her mouth, "You need to hold 'em up here - no, _here_!"

"Really? Where'd you learn that?"

"Internet."

"Of course," the new grip didn't yield any better results, but at least I now felt halfway authentic, "You know what? I blame these cheap chopsticks."

"I'm pretty sure the chopsticks ain't the issue, hon," Clint said, and then added, "How's Coop?"

"Yeah - where's Coop?" Lila chimed in, "You want me to get him?"

"No, Lila; leave him be," I said quickly, and then said, "I'm sure he'll be fine. You know how Coop is."

"What d'ya tell him?"

"The truth," I said, "About a lot of things. I don't know how much he was listening, though."

"Probably more than you think," Clint said, quite seriously, "He's always been a good listener."

"We'll talk tomorrow," I assured him, "But if you see him before I do, can you ask him if he's got any spare school stuff on the Blip? It seems like a better place to start than 'random sites on the Internet'."

"Sure," he said, "You reckon I'll see him before you do? You're the early bird."

"Normally," I shrugged, and grimaced, "But something tells me tomorrow's going to be a bit of a duvet day."

"Are you sick, mom?" Lila said, and Nate looked up from his duck, "It's not 'cause of-"

"No, dear, it's not because of you," I said, "I just...went for a run and forgot to stretch first."

"Tell you what," Clint said, "How about you go upstairs and have a lie down, and I'll put the kids to bed and get you a hot bath runnin'."

"That'd be nice," I said with a smile, "You sure you're okay with that?"

"'Course I am," he paused, and added, "Thera said that that'd be okay, didn't he? Hot baths, ice packs, and massages?"

"Sounds about right," I said, and gave him a curious look, "But since when did you start taking _his _advice?"

"Since Bulkagov," he said darkly, and looked quickly at the kids, "If he was able to _walk_ that man to an ambulance, he knows what he's talking about."

* * *

Wednesday dawned bright and clear, with all the promise of a truly glorious day ahead. In a previous, more peaceful life this would have been a day of barbeques, water fights, and an evening spent watching fireflies flitting over the fields. In this life? Not so much. As soon as the sun came stabbing through the curtains I came to with a jolt, and then a groan as pain crackled up and down my spine.

"Damnit…" I murmured, and prodded my slumbering husband with a finger, "Clint? Clint!"  
"Wasfgl?" he said, and then he was fully awake, "Wuh...what is it, Laura?"

"Water. Painkillers," I said, "And get the kids ready for school, would you? I can barely move."

"You want Thera's painkillers?" he said, "Or just regul-"

"Regular," I said, "I think his just made things worse…"

"Sure," he said, and vaulted smoothly out of bed with a hateful spryness, "You want breakfast? There's some leftovers from last night, too. You could even use the good chopsticks."

"Are you trying to be funny?"

"Tryin' and succeeding," he said, and I smiled despite the pain, "I'll be back in a sec, okay? Don't go anywhere."

"Har, har, _har_."

True to his word, Clint reappeared moments later with a pair of round white pills and some water, and then vanished downstairs with Nate in tow. Shortly thereafter, there came a great clatter of cutlery and the periodic spring of the toaster, and my stomach rumbled as tantalising scents began to waft their way upstairs. They'd clearly gotten the attention of my kids as well; moments later, there came the unearthly moans and groans of Lila and Coop as they got up, got ready, and then shambled downstairs for breakfast like an all-devouring undead horde. I smiled and burrowed my head into my pillow. For once, _I_ was going to get a lie-in.

Ten minutes before the bus was due, there was a light tap at the door.

"Mom?" called Coop, "Mom, you awake? Can I come in?"

"I'm awake," I said, "And decent. Come on in."

The door creaked open, and Coop entered holding a plate of toast on one hand, and a small stack of leaflets and books in the other.

"Dad said you wanted some stuff on the Blip," he said, a little shyly, "These're what we were given on our first day at school. I also brought you some breakfast... y'know, in case you were hungry."

"Thanks, dear," I said warmly, "Are you feeling okay today? We missed you at dinner."

"I'm good," he said briefly, "Sorry 'bout last night."

"No, I'm sorry," I said, "I'm the one who hasn't held up her end of the bargain."

"Has someone been tellin' you this, mom?" he asked, "'Cause I don't know why you're being so hard on yourself. Sure, you had that bad patch with dad and you've got...that-" he indicated the bruise on my neck, "-but it's been crazy, mom. You can't beat yourself up for not being perfect."

"Thanks, Coop," I said, "C'mon, give me a hug before you go."

"Sure," he said, and came around the side of the bed, "But I was right about Thera and Vi, wasn't I? They couldn't have been any weirder if they'd tried."

"If they'd tried?" I laughed, and quickly embraced my son, "Have a good day at school, Coop!"

"Yeah, I'll try."

"And say 'hi' to Maria for me!"

"Aw, mom!"

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me to my thoughts. I had a strange, nagging feeling that Coop had just said something important, but I was too hungry and achy to care right there and now. Toast in hand, I turned my attention to the small pile of Blip literature, and tried to ignore the unpleasant twisting feeling deep in my stomach.

"Well!" I said to nobody in particular, and picked up a small, brightly coloured pamphlet titled _'We're glad you're back!'_ "...time to get to work."

It was not a pleasant morning. Whoever had produced these pamphlets had done a fantastic job in the time they had available, but despite the kind, age-appropriate language there was no way to completely avoid grim reality. It poked and prodded its way through the carefully sanitised pages in little ways that tugged at my heartstrings; _'Your younger siblings may now be the same age or even older than you!', 'Your parents may seem different, but they are very happy to have you back'_, _'Although you may be scared, another Snap is impossible'..._

I ploughed on through Coop's collection, which unsurprisingly detailed how life might have changed for a Blipped teenager. Parents, families, friends, boyfriends and girlfriends...all older, that little bit sadder, and possibly gone entirely. By the time I reached the end of the last booklet, the final line _'What happened to you __is not your fault__' _brought a tear to my eye, and I found myself smiling gratefully at the page.

Gruelling though it was, I knew it wasn't enough. While they'd helped to set the scene, I didn't really _need _these books to know that my husband was suddenly five years older or the local towns had all but collapsed. I wanted to understand what the Snap had been like for the _world_. With a sigh, I gave in and reached for my tablet.

Over the next few hours, I felt a deep melancholy settle into my bones as I hit up every article and video I could get my hands on. I watched people scream and panic as their loved ones exploded into ash at birthday parties, basketball games, and nightclubs. I read newspaper articles declaring that 'All is lost' and saw the burning wreckage of planes, trains, and automobiles. Tales of anarchy, civil war, famine, and suicide came tumbling off the screen...and all the while I sat there, feeling a strange mixture of numbness and impotent anger while the end of the world streamed past my ears.

When Clint came bearing lunch, he found me watching a tearful address being delivered by the Argentinian Prime Minister one week after the Snap. My Spanish wasn't nearly good enough to keep up, but the words weren't important. The anguish etched across her face, her tears - _those_ were what I wanted to connect to, and my inability to do so was becoming increasingly frustrating.

"How's it going, hon?" he said, and glanced at the tablet, "Oh, I remember this one. She shot herself a week later."

"Really? That's terrible," I said, and paused the weeping politician, "Trouble is it's _all_ terrible, but…"

"But?"

"It's...how do I describe it?" I thought for a moment, "It's like I'm watching the news, and there's a terrible fire or a building collapses and I feel bad for a moment, but then they show a video of a cat playing the piano and I forget all about it."

"Those cat videos _are _pretty funny," Clint smiled, and I laughed.

"Y'see?" I said, and swatted at his hand, "That's exactly what I mean! I know it's terrible and I know it happened...but it's like Thera said. I can _see _all the horror and the pain, but it's all happening on the other side of the screen. I just can't seem to reach it."

"It's okay, babe," he said, and I shook my head.

"No, it's not!" I said hotly, "And I'll tell you why it's not. Until we went to see Thera, I was wrapped up in my own little delusional world. _My_ world, _my_ lies. Agreed?"

"I...guess?"

"Right. Now imagine a whole Blip Centre full of people like that. They haven't been exposed to someone like you who lived through all of..._this_-" I rapped my knuckles on the tablet screen, "-and I'll bet they're just as wrapped up as I was. They'll be lost, afraid, _angry_ at the people who they think took everything from them. Unless they realise that the people who survived were also victims, then they'll be rich pickings for people like that Keame guy."

"Yeah, Keame," Clint said darkly, "He's one of the reasons I came up."

"Oh yeah?"

"'Got something on the TV downstairs I thought you might be interested in. Also, there's this little toy-" he handed me a small mobile phone, and I turned it over several times in my hand before realisation dawned.

"This is Caleb's phone, isn't it?"

"Yup," he said, and looked a bit pleased with himself, "When he opened it up, I went ahead and changed the PIN. 'Figured there might be something on here that might be of interest to Fury or the police."

"Very clever," I said approvingly, "Y'know, for a circus boy."

"I have my moments," he said, "But look; if you're not having any joy with the tablet and if you're feelin' better, why not come downstairs and check out this thing on Keame? I'll bring your lunch."

"'Sounds like I haven't got much of a choice," I said, and gave my shoulder an experimental flex. It twinged, but the painkillers seemed to be doing their job, "Alright. Let me have a shower and I'll be right down."

The steaming hot shower did wonders for my still-aching muscles, but didn't do much to quieten the thoughts running around in my head. In my mind, I kept returning to the tortured expression of the Argentinian Prime Minister. She'd lost someone, clearly. Maybe she'd lost _everyone_. Maybe her hypothetical kids were even now stuck in some Argentine Blip Centre wondering why their mom hadn't come to get them. I tried to imagine that, and felt only a vague sense of sadness.

A short while later I came downstairs, still shaking droplets of water out of my hair. The kitchen and living room were absolutely immaculate, down to the last gleaming piece of silverware. Clint sat on the counter, eating a sandwich with a distant, contemplative look on his face. He stirred at my approach, and met my slightly raised eyebrows with an almost apologetic grin.

"You've been busy," I remarked, "You know the kids're never going to be able to find anything, right? There'll be complaints for weeks."

"Then maybe they should tidy away the legos when they're done with them," he said sourly, "Nate nearly learned some new words this morning."

"Wonderful," I sat down across from him and bit into my sandwich. Clint's cooking skills may have ranged from nonexistent to lethal, but he certainly knew how to put cheese between bread, "So what did you want to show me?"

"Check it out," he said, and gestured to the TV, "I had it on in the background while I was puttin' Nate's toys away, and they said that they were gonna have an interview with one Reginald Keame. Thought you might like to see it."

I peered at the television. It looked like Clint had been watching a typical midday talk show; the kind with comfortable seating, bright lighting, and possibly a small group of onlookers hiding somewhere behind the camera. On a large, wine-red couch were seated a man and a woman; the woman seemed vaguely familiar to me, although in reality she could have been any one of a number of pretty television presenters. The man, meanwhile, was someone who could generously be described as 'distinguished'. He was a tall, thin man with a lanky, almost delicate frame. His carefully combed black hair was streaked through with silver, and he had strong, well-defined features that were maybe just a little _too_ sharp to be considered handsome. He wore a pair of thick-rimmed black spectacles, and was staring at the camera with a cool, intelligent gaze. For just a moment it felt like he was staring at _me_, right through the television, and I shivered despite the noonday warmth.

"That's ol' Reggie, alright," Clint said, "Gotta say, his son's the spittin' image, although he wasn't wearing glasses when I saw him."

"_This_ is the guy who ordered Caleb to torture Bulkagov?" I was surprised, "He doesn't really look the part."

"His son didn't really look the part, either, but he _was _a monster," said Clint, "Anyway-"

Clint unpaused the television and we caught the tail end of some polite applause. The woman gave the audience a bright, toothy smile and then turned to the camera.

"Welcome back!" she said, "With me on the couch now is Dr. Reginald Keame, CEO of Keame Refineries."

"Good day, ma'am," Keame said. He spoke with a slow, soft southern drawl, "And might I say, Abigail, what a pleasure it is to be here."

'Abigail' flashed that toothy smile again, and then settled back on the couch, "Now, Dr. Keame-"

"-Reggie, please-"

"-you've inherited Keame Refineries from your father, is that correct?"

"Yes ma'am. He built it up from nothing with his own two hands and I'm very proud that he chose me to carry on his vision."

"And what a job you've done!" Abigail said enthusiastically, "You've built another refinery and brought another two thousand jobs to Missouri. Quite impressive."

"I assure you that we are only just getting started," Keame said smoothly, "We are also looking to diversify into defence, through investments in Hammer Industries. To further my father's philanthropic vision, I am also proud to announce that as of today I have begun the purchase of Helix International from Stark Industries. Based on their excellent work, we aim to be rolling out gene therapy treatments for previously untreatable illnesses as early as next year."

I exchanged a quick glance with Clint, and said, "Helix International? Wasn't that-"

"Bulkagov's employer?" he nodded, "Yup."

"Very impressive!" the presenter said, "And of course, philanthropy is a key part of the Keame Refineries Credo. You yourself have become an advocate for the 'Vanished', am I correct?"

"The Vanished? Ma'am, do I look 'vanished' to you?" Keame said, and patted himself theatrically, "I certainly don't _feel_ 'vanished'."

"Then what _would _you call yourself?"

"A victim," he said, "Both of Thanos, and of the world. While I am truly thankful for the hard work and sacrifice of the Avengers-"

There was a sudden round of applause, and Keame was drowned out by a chorus of whoops and cheers. I gave my husband a smile and patted him gently on the leg.

"-the world Stark left behind is unequal and unfair. The survivors of the Snap grieved and moved on. When an opportunity came to save us there was a _debate_ as to whether they should! How does that make you feel, Abigail? You're one of the 'Vanished'," he said, and all but spat the term, "How does it feel to have people question whether or not you should be allowed to _exist_?"

From her expression, it was pretty clear that Abigail had not been expecting _that_, "Well, I-"

"Angry?" he said suddenly. The slow drawl was gone, now replaced with a fiery zeal, "Afraid? These are our family, our _friends,_ ready to throw us on the trash heap so that they can keep the fruits of _our_ labour for themselves!"

There was a mixture of boos and claps, again drowning out the now fired-up southern gentleman.

"How'd he find out that she Blipped?" I said, with some surprise.

"Her name's probably on the Missouri Memorial," Clint said, with slightly forced casualness, "We're all on there too, y'know."

"Even you?" I said, and sighed melodramatically, "For shame, Clint Barton."

"Well, when nobody could find me, I guess they just assumed I'd been Snapped too," he shrugged, "Besides, what am I meant to do - go and chisel it off?"

"Told you you Blipped with us," I said, and looked back at the TV, "Oh, they're starting up again."

The presenter looked flustered, but I could see anger begin to creep in around her eyes, "Dr. Keame, I _hardly_ believe that-"

"With all respect, ma'am, you are in a very fortunate position," he said, "_You_ returned to a loving family and your employer welcomed you back with open arms."

"That's true, but-"

"Most aren't as lucky as you," he went on, "_I_ lost my son, but others have lost everything! They've been abandoned by everyone they've ever loved and left to rot in a system they can't hope to escape by themselves! To these people, to the 'Lost', I promise you that I will not rest until you have the justice that you deserve!"

There was another barrage of both boos and cheers, and I looked a little uneasily at my husband.

"What do you think he means by 'justice'?" I said.

"Whatever they want it to think, hon," he said, "He's playin' politics. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that he's runnin' for _some_ office or another in the next couple of days. He ain't the only one who's attempting to whip up the troops, either."

"This isn't good, is it."

"Nope."

Abigail waited patiently until the crowd died down again, and appeared to compose herself with a bit of effort, "A very impressive speech, Dr. Keame. We don't normally allow those on this show."

"My apologies, ma'am," Keame said, "It's just that I get so..._invigorated_ when talking about helpin' people that I sometimes struggle to control myself."

Clint snorted, and muttered something nasty under his breath.

"Of course," she said, with a slightly glassy smile, "And I understand that you have been trying to help some of the…'Lost'...by reuniting them with their families?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, "The Simon Keame Foundation is working to reconnect broken families across the United States, based upon information provided by the US Government, the Army, and the Avengers Orphan Initiative started by the late Natasha Romanoff. So far, we have reunited over five hundred families, including previously orphaned children. We hope that there'll be many more to follow."

"You didn't tell me she was doing that!" I said, and gave Clint an accusing look.

"I didn't know!" he replied, "I mean, I knew she was doin' _something_, but I stayed away…"

"She never stopped," I said, and felt a pang of regret deep inside, "She was always trying to balance that damn ledger of hers! If she hadn't-"

"But Dr. Keame," Abigail said, "There have been complaints; some have reported a slow response to some enquiries, seemingly arbitrary dismissal of others, and even harassment. What can you say to these?"

"I am aware of the harassment complaints, and the individuals in question have been disciplined appropriately," said Keame, "With regards to enquiries...we are attempting to reunite almost one hundred and fifty million Lost individuals with families that may have moved, split apart, changed names, or even died in the post-Snap era. It's a difficult process, ma'am, and it's going to take time."

"Well there we have it," Abigail said cheerfully, but as she turned back to the camera I caught the hard glint in her eye, "Dr. Keame, ladies and gentlemen!"

Thankfully, Clint hit 'pause' on the television before the applause could really get going. In the ensuing silence I could see the sinews working in his neck, and I could see the anger building with each moment as he stared at the screen.

"Hon?" I said, "Babe, you okay?"

"The 'Simon Keame Foundation'?" he burst out, "Seriously? The kid was a _monster_, and this is how he's being remembered? That's...insane."

"It sounds like Keame's trying to do what I wanted to do," I said, and was surprised to feel a little disappointed, "Y'know; help those people in the Centres."

"Nah, hon," he said, "You're not some kind of...Blip supremacist and you don't send people out to torture innocents. He's after something else."

"Like what?"

"Not sure," he said, "But there ain't no chance that him buyin' up Bulkagov's old company ain't related. If he's _really _after Helix for philanthropic reasons, then I'm a cabbage."

"You reckon that Caleb's phone might have something on it? He seemed to be pretty familiar with Keame."

"Good thinking," he said, "You know what? Let me get Starks' kit and we'll plug it in. It'll be easier than crowding around that tiny little screen. Just...Laura?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay with this? You know what's on that phone."

"You mean the pictures of Bulkagov, right?" I said, and he nodded, "Hon, I watched myself _die_. I'll be okay."

"It's not the same," Clint said firmly, "What Caleb did to him was _grim_! I mean, like the stuff of nightmares grim."

"Then we won't go looking for them," I said, "But if they come up, I'll handle it. There's no way I'm letting someone like Caleb beat me."

Clint smiled, "Stubborn to the end, eh?"

"You know me."

"True," he said, and got to his feet, "I'll go grab the equipment. You...if I were you, I wouldn't eat any more of that sandwich. I've already mopped the floor; I don't want to have to shampoo the carpet too."

* * *

Clint disappeared upstairs and reappeared a little later, dragging Stark's ever-useful surveillance system in its silver carry case. He wasted no time in setting it up in the living room, and then plugged the phone into the side. There was a brief 'beep', and a pair of green lights appeared on the surface of the sphere.

"I thought that we wouldn't be using this thing again," I said, as the displays flared to life, "Which was a shame, 'cause- whoa."

With a strange fluttering noise, another half-dozen windows suddenly popped into existence. They were clearly related to the phone itself, with at least three of them displaying thoroughly mundane things including call history, messages, and the camera roll. The thumbnails displayed were too small to clearly see, but I caught shades of scarlet and steel before Clint reacted and swiped the window away.

"Sorry hon," he said quickly, "We'll come back to 'em if we really need 'em."

"Hopefully we won't," I said, and shuddered. Even the hints I had caught were unpleasant enough, "So what do we have?"

"Well…if I remember, this map here-" he expanded a small tab to show a map of Missouri. A red line was drawn from a point near St. Louis, down the I44 to the Blip Centre and then straight to our farmstead, "-shows where the phone's been. It looks like this one's a seven-day history."

"That's creepy."

"That's _Stark_," he pointed, "Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist in public, genius paranoid neurotic mess in private. Anyway, _this_ one-" he expanded another tab, and the line was replaced with a set of red dots, clustered around the St. Louis region and the Blip Centre, "Shows who he was callin', and we can probably find out who if we select one- yeah," a number sprang to life, alongside a date stamp, "...but it doesn't look like he's been naming his contacts. Burner phone, obviously."

"So what's that little red arrow up the top?"

"A call outside the map. Hold on-" the map blurred and refocused above New Jersey, "-well, ain't that interesting? It was made yesterday mornin', too. Early."

"Bulkagov's wife lives in New Jersey," I said, and felt a sudden chill, "No; he wouldn't-"

"'Course he would," said Clint, in a tone that was almost _too_ casual, "You don't go an' torture someone like Bulkagov for no reason."

"But she doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"You sure?" my husband asked, "Maybe _we_ weren't on the right track. What if it wasn't Bulkagov who had what he wanted?"

"You think... they were blackmailing his wife?"

"Maybe at first," he mused, "But obviously they wanted to turn up the heat."

"We should call her," I said suddenly, "She needs to know that Bulkagov's okay - or at least in hospital. God only knows what she must be going through right now."

"Just a minute, hon. We should probably just check the rest of the phone for messages first."

Clint quickly waved his hands, and the map was replaced with the text and voicemail displays, hovering side by side.

"Only one voicemail," he remarked, "Wanna listen?"

"Sure," I said, and mentally braced myself, "Go for it."

There was a small 'bip', and a moment later a voice drifted out of the sphere. It was unfamiliar, but it had a deep, menacing timbre devoid of empathy or kindness, and I felt my hair stand up on end as I listened.

"_Alright, kid,"_ it said, _"Here's the job. Turns out our contact claims she ain't able to give us the goods. Either she was lyin' then or she's lyin' now, so we need you to go and show her what happens to people who ain't honest with the boss. Go to Blip Centre 43, tell 'em you're 'Caleb Johnson' and our boys'll make sure you'll get in without any trouble. Once you're in, find Bulkagov and make an example of him. I'll be sending you her contact details so you can send her pictures of your 'work'..." _the man laughed nastily,_ "Look, she'll probably try to offer you all kinds of things to get you to stop, but the boss has been real clear on this. Either she gives us #273, the _location_ of #273, or Bulkagov dies. Real simple, right? Oh, and make sure you _delete_ this voicemail this time, got it? Even our friends in blue won't be able to look the other way if they find this. Idiot."_

The voicemail clicked off, and I gave Clint a puzzled look.

"#273?" I said, "There's that number again...what _is_ it?"

"Hell if I know," he said, "But Keame seems real eager to get his hands on it. That can't be good news."

"_None_ of that was good news," I said, "How'd you think Thera's going to take learning that his Blip Centre's been infiltrated by Keame's men? You know we have to tell them, right?"

"Hah," he snorted, "Can't we leave Super Spy Vi to figure that one out for herself?"

"Don't you want to show her up?" I said, "I'd thought you'd jump at the chance to make her eat her words."

"Ah, it's ain't as satisfying as you'd think," he said, "But this #273…"

"I wonder…" I tapped my finger on my lips, "You remember when Thera and Vi were talking over the phone? When we tapped their line?"

"How could I forget?" he said, "Vi was nice enough to return my equipment in your handbag!"

"Maybe you should've tapped the right line then, hon," I retorted, "Anyway, they were talking about someone not being willing to sell something to them. Do you think…?"

"That'd be a bit coincidental, hon," he said dubiously.

"It _does_ add up, though," I said, "Look; Thera managed to walk Bulgakov down to the ambulance. That means that Caleb -or whatever his _real_ name was- didn't kill him, yeah? That means that his wife spilled the beans, and now Keame is _suddenly_ buying up the company Bulgakov just happened to work for? Whatever #273 is, Helix has it."

"And they're a biotech company…" he said, and gave me a sharp look, "Wait, we're not coming back to that virus theory, are we? You think that it could be that 'Phoenix' thing you found?"

"I have no idea," I shrugged, "But I'm _telling_ you that this is what Thera and Vi are after. Call it what you want - a hunch, women's intuition...whatever it is, they want it."

"When you put it like that, you make _me_ kinda want it too."

"That's 'cause you're a child."

"Guilty as charged," he said, "Maybe we'll learn more from his texts."

"Or from phoning his wife? She was the one who has it!" I pointed out, "Anyway, the last time Caleb phoned her was probably _before_ he got to work on Bulgakov; y'know, a last demand. I'd bet that any texts we find will just be his, um, 'work', with her begging him to stop."

"You're probably right."

"And If I was in her position I'd be going out of my head right now. We _owe_ it to her to tell her he's alive. Please, Clint."

"Okay, okay!" he said, and held up his hands, "You're making me sound like some kind of heartless monster. Let me just get that number back…"

Clint navigated back to the map with practiced ease, and after a moment the sound of a phone ringing echoed through the house. My heart pounded in my ears, and I stood tensely by Clint while we waited for Bulkagov's wife to answer the phone.

"I, uh, just realised, something," my husband said, a little abashedly, "We're ringin' using Caleb's phone, so she'll think it's-"

There was a beep, and suddenly a stream of expletives blasted from Stark's kit at full volume. I clapped my hands reflexively over my ears and stepped back, immediately thankful that none of the kids were around to hear the highly inventive and wide-ranging invective now filling the air.

"Ma'am!" Clint was saying, struggling to be heard above the litany of curses, "Ma'am, I know you're upset-"

"Why are you ringing me?" she screamed, "I've already told you everything I can! Just leave me _alone!"_

"I'm _not_ Caleb, ma'am!" Clint tried again, "Please listen to me!"

"Your husband is _safe!_" I said loudly. She might have confused Clint for Caleb, but I hoped that she wouldn't make the same mistake with me. There was a sudden silence, so total and oppressive that I wondered if the line had gone dead. A moment later, though, I could hear subtle, shallow breathing coming down the line.

"...safe? Are you joking? He was _tortured_! I have _photo-_"

"I know, ma'am, but please listen to me," my husband said, now speaking very quickly, "Your husband was tortured by Caleb, yeah, but we...kind of accidentally intruded on it. We captured Caleb, and he was taken for interrogation by a third party."

"You stopped Caleb?" the woman said. It sounded as if she couldn't quite believe her ears, "You saved Pete?"

"...not quite," Clint admitted, "He ain't dead, ma'am. We had a medic with us; he was able to stabilise him and got him to an ambulance."

"But these photos…"

"I've seen them, ma'am," my husband said, and added sincerely, "I'm...very sorry. I wish we had been there sooner."

"No, _I'm_ sorry!" she bawled, suddenly, "I just wanted to see my Pete again! It's been so long, and...I was _weak_. I made a mistake, and poor Pete paid the price.."

"I know the feeling, ma'am," Clint said soothingly, "It's not your fault."

"It is. It _is_," she said, "I should have never gotten involved with those _bastards_. Now...oh, Pete..."

"He'll be okay, I'm sure," I said. Clint grimaced and shook his head vigorously, "Um, well...they'll do their best."

"Do you know where he was taken?" she said urgently, "Which hospital?"

"Sorry; Thera didn't tell me," I said.

"Or me," Clint added, "An' he then went and collapsed from exhaustion, so it ain't like we can ask him. There's only five hospitals nearby, though, so if you ring round 'em I reckon you'd find out where he is fairly quickly."

"Thank you," she said, "And thank you so much for everything you've done. If there's anything I can do for you…"

"Actually, ma'am-"

"-Sophia-"

"Sophia, there _is _one question we had," Clint said, "We keep hearin' the phrase '#273', and we reckon that Bulkagov was tortured 'cause of it. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?"

The line went silent again. When Sophia spoke, her voice was tight and carefully controlled, "May I ask who is asking this?"

"Sure," he said, and gave me a slightly cocky grin, "I'm Clint Barton; one of the Avengers? You know me as Hawk-"

There was a sudden intake of breath from the other end of the line, and then there was a loud, obnoxious 'boop'. The display that had been monitoring the call flared red for an instant, and then returned to the contacts page.

"-eye…" he said, "Hey, she hung up on me!"

"You sure about that?" I said, "Try calling her back."

"Yeah," he said, and pointed at Sophia's number. The phone rang, just once, and then we heard the familiar robotic tones of the voicemail service. He tried again, and got the same result, "You know, I think she might have blocked us."

"Let me try," I said, and quickly punched the number in on my phone. It rang through normally, and after a moment I heard Sophia's tentative 'hello'?

"Hi, Sophia!" I said brightly, "It's Laura Barton here. We were just talking when we got cut off, and- hello? Hello?"

The line went dead again. I stared at my phone's home screen, and then at Clint, "You know, I don't think she likes us very much."

"I reckon she doesn't like _me_ very much," he said, "She hung up as soon as she heard my name."

"Well, she also heard you were an Avenger. Maybe that was it."

"After we brought back her precious 'Pete'? C'mon, Laura," Clint snorted, and I had to admit that that argument was pretty weak, "She _really _didn't want to talk about #273, either. Whatever it is, it's gotten her pretty spooked."

"Well, who do we know who could find out?" I said, "I mean, there..._is_ Vi-"

"Oh no. I ain't asking her. Not after what she said," Clint said, "'sides, what makes you think she wants to talk to _us_? Right now she's probably got her hands full looking after Thera."

"Okay...so how about Fury? This sounds just like the kind of thing he'd be interested in."

"I can try," he said dubiously, "I gotta say, Fury's still worryin' me a bit. I'm not sure how helpful he'd really be…"

"Well if not him, then who?" I said, "We need _someone_, and it's not like help's gonna come knocking at our door!"

There was a knock at the door. Clint and I exchanged a stunned look, and then he looked at Stark's equipment with a chagrined expression on his face.

"Quick! Stall 'em!" he said urgently. He ripped Caleb's phone out of its housing and threw on the sofa, "I'll deal with Stark's kit!"

"You sure?"

"'Course I'm sure!" he said, "Get the door before they come around the side!"

The 'clicks' and 'snaps' of Stark's carry case echoed dully across the tiles as I went to answer the door. The silhouette on the other side was quite tall and slim, and for some reason I felt a little twinge of disappointment deep inside.

"_You hoped it would be Vi, didn't you? Tears running down her cheeks, begging for forgiveness..."_

"Hold on!" I called, partially to the silhouette, and partially to silence my inside voice. As I made a show of looking for the front door key, Clint quickly wheeled the silver box past and hauled it bodily up the stairs. As soon as he was gone, I turned the key in the lock and opened the door wide.

"Good afternoon- oh," I stopped. I had no idea who I was expecting (or even _wanting_) to turn up at this time of day, but the lanky, caped Master of the Mystic Arts was probably right at the bottom of my list. From his serious expression and chilly, businesslike air, I was pretty sure that the feeling was mutual, "Dr. Strange?"

"Mrs. Barton," he said, and gave me a thin smile, "We need to talk."


	13. Chapter 13: The Medic at the End of etc

**Chapter 13: The Medic at the End of the World**

I stared at Doctor Strange in astonishment. _Surely _he couldn't be serious, could he?

"You..." I said, eventually, "You want to talk to _me?_"

"Yes," he said, "I trust that isn't a problem."

"No! No, of course not," I said, "Would you like to come in?"

"If I may," he said, "It's nothing serious; just a courtesy call."

I gave him a suspicious look, "The Master of the Mystic Arts makes courtesy calls now?"

"As the 'Master of the Mystic Arts', I'll make whatever damn calls I please," he said, with just the hint of a smile, "I trust you're keeping well?"

"Since I saw you yesterday?" I said, and stepped aside to let him in, "I've only been injured once, if that's what you're asking."

"Congratulations," he said blandly, "That must have represented quite a challenge for you."

"My daughter shot me in the face with a tag arrow."

"Is that so?" he said, "Clearly, she's either an excellent shot or you have an undiscovered talent for slapstick comedy."

"The first one," I replied tartly, "Can I interest you in a drink? Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee, please," he said, looking around with some interest, "I must say, this is a lovely home. Very..._provincial_."

"I like it," I said, and added, "Shoes off please. Unless you have a spell that stops you from tracking Tibetan dirt across my floor."

Leaving him to his own devices, I went into the kitchen and got some filter coffee on the go. It hummed and burbled gently in the background as I did a quick last-minute sweep for anything potentially incriminating in the living room. I didn't _think_ Strange would be the sort to go telling tales to Fury, but at the same time I didn't want to give him any ammunition if I could avoid it. Spotting Caleb's phone nestled on the cushions, I quickly threw it under a blanket and sat down just as Strange came through, sporting a pair of hideous lime-green and yellow striped socks that almost hurt to look at.

"Horrible, aren't they?" he said, obviously catching my expression.

"They're not what I expected," I admitted, "I kind of pictured you having fifty pairs of identical black socks."

"That's...a good guess," he said, slowly, "But Wong brought these for me, and you know how it is with gifts."

"I have three kids," I said, and pointed at the strata of pictures stuck to the fridge door, "Anyway - please have a seat. I'll go call Clint."

"Oh, is he in? That's fortunate."

"Yeah, he's just upstairs - hey, Clint!" I raised my voice, and Strange winced as he settled himself down on the sofa, "It's Strange!"

Clint's face appeared at the stop of the stairs, "What's strange, hon?"

"I mean it's _Doctor_ Strange!" I said, and turned back to the doctor, "Um, sorry."

"Oh, no - it happens all the time," he said, a little ruefully, "It was worse at school."

"Wait; Strange is your _real _name?" I blinked, "I thought it was an alias."

"You aren't the first," he said, and sighed, "And you definitely won't be the last."

"Well-" there was a loud, obnoxious beep from the kitchen, and I leapt to my feet, "Oh good! The coffee's ready. How do you take yours?"

"Black, thank you. No sugar."

With a faint sense of relief, I ducked into the kitchen and started pouring out the coffee. From down the hall, there came the creak of wood and then my husband came bounding into the living room, his face a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and suspicion, "Ah, Clint. Good to see you again."

"Yeah," Clint said, curtly, "What's goin' on, Stephen?"

"Nothing serious, I assure you," Strange said, "I'm just...keeping you apprised of recent developments."

"You mean, since yesterday?"

"Quite so," he said, "I'd like to wait until Laura returns; to avoid repeating myself, you understand."

"It's okay!" I called, "I can hear!"

"Well, in that case I'll proceed," Strange said, "Following the..._excitement_ yesterday at the Blip Centre, I took the liberty of following up on Bulgakov's condition. It took my colleagues an hour or so to track him down, but we eventually traced him to the district hospital."

"And…?" Clint said, anxiously. In the next room, I put the coffee pot down and listened intently, my heart pounding in my ears.

"He will make a full recovery," said the doctor, in a carefully professional tone. I gasped, and looked around into the living room just in time to see Clint sit down heavily on the sofa.

"That ain't possible," he said, bluntly, "That simply _ain't _possible."

"As far as the hospital is concerned, Bulgakov suffered from a breakdown following the earlier emergency case they received. I believe that was a middle aged woman."

"I heard Thera talking about her. Flora, I think," I said, "Coffee, Clint?"

"Uh...sure," said my husband, apparently still slightly in shock, "So the hospital thinks Bulgakov's a mental case?"

"According to their patient history he attempted self-harm. The first responder was alerted, and as in the earlier case an intervention was carried out before any serious damage could be done."

"'Any serious damage'?" Clint said hotly, "Are they _kidding_? The man was _tortured!_"

"He has a couple of minor lacerations on his arms and face. There was no evidence of more extensive injuries."

"But his _eyes-_"

"Clint," Strange said placatingly, "I saw him very briefly from a distance, but the gentleman in question was sitting up in bed, eating, and sharing a joke with one of the nurses. If I didn't know better, I would say that he was in near-perfect health."

"So he doesn't remember being tortured, then?" I asked, as I handed both Clint and Strange their coffees. Strange inclined his head in thanks, and took a small sip of the steaming liquid.

"Interesting blend," he noted, after a moment, "And...no, he doesn't. He apparently remembers feeling very scared and then cutting pains, but as far as the hospital is concerned that doesn't need torture to explain."

"That's bullshit," Clint said, "We have proof he was tortured! Caleb was taking photos as he did it!"

"Do you have those to hand?"

"Yeah, sure," my husband gave me a quick look, and with a sigh I tugged the phone out from its hiding place under the blanket and handed it to him. Clint unlocked the phone and handed it over.

"Careful," he said warningly, "They ain't pretty."

"Please, Clint," Strange snorted, as he prodded at the screen, "I've probably seen the insides of more people than anyone here-"

His face suddenly went completely blank, but as he swiped through the images his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Interesting," he said eventually, "_Very_ interesting. Thank you for sharing those with me."

"So you believe us?" I said. Strange gave me an odd smile.

"My apologies, Laura; I always believed you, but perhaps I didn't make that sufficiently clear. As I said, he would seem to be in perfect health _if I didn't know better_. As I _do_ know better, I have arranged to have Bulgakov transferred to the Metro-General hospital in New York for further assessments by a friend of mine. He'll be flown out this time next week."

"You think that they'll find something?"

"I think if there's anything to find, she'll find it."

"New York?" Clint thought about this for a second, and then nudged me, "Hold on; his wife doesn't live far from there."

"That's true," I said, "She's only in New Jersey."

"Is that so?" said Strange, with some surprise, "I don't suppose you have her contact details, do you?"

"They're on that phone. It's the most recent number" Clint said, "We rang her just before you came to let her know that Bulgakov was alive, but…"

"...she hung up on us," I finished, "Maybe you'll have better luck."

"Excellent," Strange glanced briefly at the phone, and then handed it back to Clint, "I'll be sure to call her as soon as I can. If possible, I'll attempt to have her flown in to accompany him on the return journey."

"That's really nice of you, Strange," I smiled, "You don't have to do that."

"Five years is too long to be apart," he said. Despite the clinically professional tone, I could sense a note of guilt nibbling around the edges, "They both deserved better."

"This _is_ better. Thanks to you Bulgakov won't be left stranded in that damn Blip Centre, and he gets to be with his family again," I said, "What more can you do?"

"There's always more one can do, Laura. Whether or not it's _wise_ to do it is another matter entirely…"

Strange trailed off, and for a little while we sat in silence while the sounds of birdsong filtered gently through the house. Eventually, the doctor appeared to reach a decision and downed the rest of his coffee in a single gulp, "In any case, I shan't impose any further on your time. Thank you for the coffee, and I wish you both a good-"

"Hold on, Stephen," Clint said abruptly, "You're leaving? After tellin' us all... _that_?"

"That certainly appears to be the case."

"You can't just drop that kind of bombshell on us and run off back to your monastery!"

"I think you'll find that I can," Strange said, with that rather annoying smile, "As I said, this was a courtesy call."

"Well, thanks for the courtesy," said Clint, "But you ain't told us _why_ you're doin' this."

Strange inclined his head, "I beg your pardon?"

"Why pull out all the stops for this one guy? Considerin' that we ain't never heard of you until Thanos turned up, I don't think that checking up on patients an' booking passenger flights is your kind of thing."

"I'm... not sure what you want me to say."

"That you're doin' this 'cause you've been spooked by Thera? C'mon; it's obvious."

"I'm not '_spooked'_ by Thera!" the doctor flared, "I am 'cautious', possibly even 'wary', but that is all."

"'That's all'?" Clint retorted, "Strange, this guy an' his fiancee knows everything about my family! _Everything_! Are you seriously tellin' me that you, the world-famous 'Master of the Mystic Arts' are 'wary' of him? That ain't exactly reassuring!"

"And how, exactly, would you like me to reassure you?"

"Could you just tell us what you know? Please?" I said, and put a calming hand on my husband's shoulder, "We know that you saw..._other_ Theras when you were looking into the future. Hell, you basically blackmailed him with that fact."

"...true."

"And we're pretty sure you were only looking to see how to defeat Thanos. That'd mean that...oh," I felt a jolt, deep inside, "Thera was at the Battle of Earth, wasn't he?"

Strange stared contemplatively at the wall, clearly considering carefully what to say next. When he looked back, there was a distinctly amused expression on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

"Clearly, I've underestimated you."

"Maybe not," I said, "I probably should've worked that out a little earlier."

"She's right though, isn't she," Clint stated, "That's where you saw Thera."

"...yes," Strange said, and sighed, "Thera, or at least other versions of Thera, _was _at the Battle of Earth."

"Good call, hon," Clint said, and gave me a quick high-five.

"He wasn't there often, mind you. In all the futures I surveyed, he appeared maybe half a million times along with a changing group of individuals. Sometimes _they_ were there and he was absent. Regardless, it was never a good sign."

"Why?" I said urgently, "What did he do?"

"I didn't say he _did_ anything."

"No, you just implied it."

"I've experienced fourteen million possible timelines, Laura," he said, in a surprisingly weary tone, "I've seen people acting in ways that I would _never _have imagined that they'd be capable of. For instance: can you imagine you standing side-by-side with Agent Romanoff, facing down a swarm of onrushing aliens? It happened."

"Me?" I blinked, "But I was killed by Thanos!"

"Not always," he said, "One of the key determinants of how a given timeline played out was who was 'chosen' by the Snap. _That_ Laura lost her entire family, and her coping mechanism was to take up her husband's bow and train obsessively with Romanoff in the hopes that one day she would be able to make a difference," he said, and added quietly, "Unfortunately, she couldn't."

"That's...," I began, and stopped. Once again, I felt like I _should_ be feeling something more than vague regret, but it just wasn't there, "That's terrible."

"She tried her hardest, but…" Strange shrugged, "Look, my point is that it would be unwise for me to use her actions to pass judgement on you. She might have been you at one point, but by the Battle of Earth she was a different woman, shaped by different experiences. Thera is no different."

"Okay, fine," I said, "But after you blackmailed Thera, he turned around and threatened you right back, using the same words you did - and you did what he wanted."

"I try to avoid unnecessary conflict," the sorcerer shrugged, "And his request wasn't actually unreasonable."

"That's not the point. The point is that you _remembered_ him being at the Battle of Earth-"

"-but I have a photographic memory-"

"-yeah," said Clint, clearly cottoning onto my train of thought, "But you would've had to have _seen_ him or his buddies. I was there, Strange; it was pretty crowded, and Thera ain't exactly built like Thor."

"Which means that he must've stood out some other way," I said, "And he seemed pretty damn confident that you would have seen that in a battle where there were actual, _literal_ gods. That doesn't seem like the kind of thing you can just chalk to 'shaped by different experiences'."

"True," Strange was smiling openly now, "You _have _been thinking about this, haven't you."

"Like Clint said, this guy knows almost everything about us, while we don't know _anything_ about him," I spread my hands, "You can see we've done our homework, so why not do what you _actually _came here to do and tell us what's going on?"

Strange paused, looked at me for just a moment, and then suddenly burst out laughing.

"My goodness," he said, "I'm starting to wonder if the person who wrote your S.H.I.E.L.D dossier had something against you."

"Really?" I said, and gave Clint a sharp look, "What does it say?"

"How would I know?" he said quickly, "I ain't read it!"

"You haven't read my file? You weren't even _slightly _curious?"

"I ain't exactly the file readin' type," he retorted, "And why would I need your file? I know you better than anyone!"

"Suffice it to say, it isn't...entirely complimentary," said Strange, "I'm glad to see they were at least partially mistaken, though."

"So you'll tell us what you know?"

"Fine," the sorcerer stood up, "You may recall that I gave an interview shortly after the Blip. I wanted people to understand exactly how lucky we were, so they could understand the choices that I made. I described a number of potential outcomes, including, of course, our defeat at the hands of Thanos, a failure to reassemble the Infinity Stones, and...the destruction of the Earth. The _spectacular _destruction of the Earth."

"I remember Lila talking about that once," I said, and gave Clint a quick nudge, "Over breakfast, remember?"

"Lila says a _lot_ of things, babe," he said, "I can't keep up with half of what's going through her head."

"A matter on which I remain blissfully unaware," said Strange, in a slightly impatient tone, "The reason Thera or his accomplices appearance was 'never a good sign' was because if he, or his sister were present at the Battle of Earth, it would always end with the planet being destroyed."

"You sure about that?"

"After half a million iterations, one begins to notice a pattern. I originally thought it was a form of triage, if you will; destroy the planet to save the universe? But then there was a timeline where they both died, and then when Thanos snapped his fingers-" Strange opened his hands in an explosive gesture, "-it was the same result. It was their physical _presence_ that caused the destruction, and I've yet to work out how or why."

"Yeah, that'd probably make me wary as well," agreed Clint, "You really reckon he's going to blow up the planet?"

"No," said Strange, "But I'm sure you can understand my concern. When I was investigating that magical disturbance, I didn't expect to encounter a harbinger of our destruction. Until I know how, or _why_ he's here, we need to be on our guard."

"Okay, so...that's pretty crazy," I said, and Clint nodded in agreement, "But compared to blowing up the planet, volunteering at that mess of a Blip Centre seems like pretty small potatoes. Why does _that _concern you?"

"Because he's a driven, determined individual who genuinely believes that what he's doing is right," said Strange firmly, "History is littered with examples of people like him, and most of the time their stories end in disaster."

"You think he's going to cause a disaster? By doing what he thinks is right?"

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, is it not?" said the doctor, "Thanos may be dead, but the Avengers are badly weakened and who knows what horror lies around the next corner? People will be looking to someone to replace the likes of Stark and Rogers. If word gets out that there's a _de_ _facto_ leader of a Blip Centre who possesses miraculous healing capabilities, he _will_ attract a following. With the right person, an idea can spread like a virus..."

Strange's voice seemed to fade away, and in that moment my mind felt like it was working faster than it had in quite some time. We'd been wrong about Thera's 'Phoenix', of that I was sure. He and Vi were prickly, condescending, and even downright insulting, but the person I saw at the Blip Centre simply wasn't capable of unleashing a bioweapon. Whatever they were up to, it didn't involve mass killings...but spreading an idea, or an _ideal_? I could see that. Thera had pretty firmly held views and no objection to voicing them, but he didn't really strike me as the kind of person who'd be comfortable with getting out there and spreading the word. He needed someone else, this 'Patient Zero'...

"Hon?" Clint's voice intruded on my reverie, "Babe, you there?"

"Yeah," I said, and shook myself back to reality, "Clint, when Thera was talking about viral spread in that book of his, he didn't mean a bioweapon! He meant like those videos Coop and Lila watch!"

"You mean he wants to be a cat playing the piano?"

"Yes! No!" I tried again, "He's got an idea. I'm pretty sure he's _told_ us his idea, actually, and he's trying to spread it somehow!"

"I...um," Clint looked over at Strange, "What d'ya reckon?"

"I 'reckon' that this is the first I'm hearing of a viral attack," said the doctor, a little pointedly, "But it is a possibility. We know that he at least follows some religion; proselytising is certainly not outside the realms of possibility, particularly at a Blip Centre. I'll find out what he's been saying to the residents. If this is the case, then my concerns are well founded."

"What?" said Clint, "We've gone from Thera 'blowin' up the planet' to 'releasing a bioweapon' to being one of those guys who stands around shoutin' 'The End is Nigh'. Why is that a problem?"

"Because if I _am_ correct, he will inevitably come into conflict with other factions also seeking to profit from the Blip, if he has not done so already," said Strange, "And I have seen…'enough' to know that any potential escalation would only end badly."

"How badly?"

"Would you like to see Missouri in flames?"

"Oh, come on! That's ridiculous."

"Mark my words, Clint," Strange said, quite seriously, "Even if he means well, Thera is a spark in a world made of kindling. I am trying to keep him under control, but failing that he must be removed from play as fast as possible."

The implicit threat hung in the air, and I felt butterflies settle in my stomach.

"Um, he _did_ say that he was going home as soon as his contract was completed," I said, and tried to keep the urgent tone out of my voice, "Maybe that's a solution? It would be better than resorting to violence, right?"

"A contract, you say? Do you know its details?" said Strange. His expression seemed cautiously hopeful, and a frown developed when I shook my head, "Damn. I would prefer to avoid violence if possible. If we could also find out where this home of his is that might help us put pressure on him to leave peacefully. There are various locating spells that could be of use...but they generally require a sample. An article of clothing, or something that he's handled recently."

"Really? We can help you there, then," I said, and pulled out Thera's painkillers, "He gave me these yesterday after our fight with Caleb."

"May I?" Strange asked, and I handed him the pack. He gave them a long, careful look, and then popped one of the last pills out of its blister pack, "Hmm...did they work?"

"Like nothing I've ever tried. I was basically paralysed until I took these, and then I felt _amazing._"

"So you went from being almost 'paralysed' with pain to playing archery tag with your daughter?" said the sorcerer, "Or at least being a moving target."

"Yeah," I said, a little sourly, "What about it?"

"That's quite an impressive result...for a regular NSAID," he said, and turned the blister pack over to reveal a faintly stamped out name on the plastic, "This brand is rare, but I recognise it. These should just be simple painkillers."

"There's nothing simple about those!" I said, and added, "I _thought _he'd done something funny with them."

"I suspect they are 'enhanced', yes," said Strange, and gave the pill another look, "Very interesting...these would certainly do the job, if you don't mind parting with them."

"I'll be fine," I said, and gave my husband an arch look, "Clint owes me a massage, anyway."

"Perfect," he said, and both the pill and packet vanished into a pocket, "This talk has been far more...fruitful than I thought, but now I really _must_ depart. If you find out anything more about that contract, I'd be very grateful. Please, don't get up-" he gestured quickly as I went to rise, "-I can see myself out."

"See you later, Stephen," Clint said, and gave him a brief wave. Strange acknowledged the wave with a nod and left the room. From the hallway there came the sounds of rustling and a steady mutter that was _just_ too quiet to make out, followed by the sound of the front door clicking shut.

"Those were some _terrible _socks," my husband remarked, in the following silence, "You okay, hon? That was a lot to take in."

"Yeah, no kidding," I said, "Would you like to take a walk? I feel like I need to go for a walk."

* * *

The day was glorious. It was warm, but not too warm, and a gentle breeze fluttered through the overgrown cornfields as Clint and I walked hand in hand across the grass and down one of the many paths leading into the forest. As we walked through the ferny undergrowth, the bright noonday sun faded to a dappled light which cast the world in a soothing, golden aura, and overhead birds sang as they fluttered from branch to branch. Five years hadn't changed this place; it was peaceful, timeless, and _quiet_. Right now, I felt very much like I needed some quiet in my life.

After a short walk, we reached the mossy bank of the wide, babbling brook, and stared in silence as it flowed endlessly over its smooth stone bed. On a whim I kicked off my boots, rolled up my jeans and, ignoring Clint's quizzical look, stepped gingerly into the stream. The water was shockingly cold, but strangely therapeutic at the same time, and I closed my eyes and allowed my troubles to fall away. There was the slightest ripple in the water as my husband joined me, and together we stood in that single, tranquil moment, isolated from the world and all its troubles.

Eventually, the freezing water drove us out of the stream, and so we grabbed our things and walked slowly along the meandering bank, following the stream to its inevitable destination..

"Hey," I said quietly, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the forest, "D'ya remember when we used to float boats down here with Lila and Coop?"

"We did that a couple weeks ago," Clint said, "Just after you came back."

"No, I mean for _real_. Not as some kind of post-Blip...madness," I said, and leaned against him with a sigh, "I can't quite believe it. It seems just yesterday that Coop was starting elementary, and in a couple years he'll be off to college. We turn around twice, and Lila'll be gone too..."

"There's still Nate," he said reassuringly, "He won't be goin' anywhere for awhile."

"Yeah," I said, "Yeah…"

"What's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing," I said, but my smile was wistful, "I'm just...wishing I could have some of those moments back again. They were good times, weren't they?"

"All of them," Clint said, "Even the ones that didn't seem so good."

"Hah," I snorted, "Like when Coop broke his ankle?"

"Yeah," he said, "Or Lila's fourth birthday party."

"I thought we agreed that she never _had_ a fourth birthday party."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

We both laughed, ruefully, and then fell silent. For a long time there was nothing but the sound of the gentle washing of the stream and the wind fluttering through the ferns. Up ahead I could hear the sounds of rushing water, and the stream began to swirl and foam as it raced towards its final destination. It hurtled around one final corner, and then suddenly dropped out of sight as it plunged into a wide, secluded lake. Mist rose from the waterfall, and where it caught the sunlight a rainbow formed, casting bright, brilliant colours across the forest.

"Haven't been here in a while," I murmured.

This lake wasn't _technically_ ours, but it was so far removed from civilisation that it may as well have been. It had a surface like silvered glass, broken only by the waterfall and the odd, curious fish. Towards one end there was a thicket of reeds, in which _somewhere _was Coop's long-lost RC boat, and the half-rotten carcass of a raft sat heavily in the water, the victim of exposure and neglect. It was a strange place, filled with memories of summers long past, and as I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me I fancied that I could still hear the children's squeals and laughter echoing amongst the trees.

"Why did I stop coming down here, again?" I said, half to myself and half to Clint, "It's so beautiful."

Clint made a funny noise in his throat, and when I turned I saw him gazing at the raft with tears standing openly in his eyes.

"Hey, hon - you okay?"

"I'd forgotten about the raft," he said, in a suddenly thick voice, "The kids..._we_... were building it as a surprise for you. We were gonna take it out the day after...the day after you all…"

I took his hand and held it, tightly. Somewhere deep inside I felt that now-familiar stab of anger, but it was now tempered by something else. I wasn't quite sure _what_ it was, but I was pretty sure that it had been hiding behind the rage all along. I just hadn't been thinking clearly enough to see it.

"Oh," I said, and felt my throat seize up, "Clint. That's...that's…I'm so sorry. I didn't know-"

"You couldn't have done," he said curtly, "It's always gonna be the little things, right? They ain't never going to go away."

He sat down on the lip of the waterfall and stared off into the mist. I joined him, and put a comforting arm around his back. It was taut with stress.

"Maybe not, but it gets easier," I said, "We both know that. I'll be there for you, and so'll the kids. If you ever need to step outside or go cry or...punch a pillow, I'm sure they'll understand. We all love you, you know. So much."

"I know," he said, and I could feel the tension start to drain from his muscles.

"And maybe when you're feeling up to it, we can drag that old raft out of the water and build a bigger one. A better one; with cannons or something - and we'll do it together, as a family."

"That'd be nice," a slight smile crept to the surface, "We could even have a barbeque down here."

"Yeah," I said, and rested my head on his shoulder, "We'll take back everything that Thanos took from us, and we'll make it better. The best revenge is living well, y'know."

"I thought the best revenge was making him watch his dreams go up in ash," said Clint, "But you're right. How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?"

"Practice. Years and years of practice," I said, a little wryly, "_Anyway..._what say we take your mind off things, hey? I came down here to relax for a bit before the kids come back. You know, like old times."

"Oh, yeah?" said Clint, "What do you want to do?"  
"Well…" I considered it, "We've come all the way to the lake; we _could _go for a swim…"

"Haven't done that since Coop came along."

"I think that's _why_ Coop came along."

"It'll be freezing!"

"I don't remember that stopping us before," I said, and gave him a playful look, "Don't tell me you're getting soft in your old age."

"Really?" he blinked, "You're going _there_? That's low."

"Prove me wrong, then. You used to be, ah, _up _for almost anything."

"I still am!" he said, and then gave me a faintly worried look, "We're, um, we're on the same page here, right? I don't wanna misread the subtext or anythin'."

"Are you serious?" I said, and laughed incredulously, "Would you like me to send up a flare? You'd better get stripping, _Hawkeye_. I'll...see you in the water."

* * *

"T-t-that was a t-t-terrible idea," I chattered, some time later. I was sitting in the living room with a blanket draped across my shoulders, and despite the heat outside I was shivering uncontrollably. The lake had been very, _very_ cold. "Who's i-idea was that again?"

There was a _clink_ on the table in front of me, and I looked up to see a steaming mug of hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream.

"Yours," said Clint, simply. Irritatingly, he didn't seem to have been affected at _all_.

"You should've s-said something!" I said sharply, but gratefully picked up the mug. The warmth percolated through my hands, and I felt my extremities slowly return to life.

"I _did_ say something!" he said, "I said 'it'll be freezing!' but then you gave me that smouldering look and I, um, stopped thinking."

"With your head, you mean."

"That's rich coming from you, babe," he said, "The way you were acting, I'm surprised the lake didn't boil over."

I stuck my tongue out, "Is it me, or was that lake warmer back before we had Coop?"

"You ain't twenty anymore, Laura," he said, "Or thirty, even."

"So you're saying that I'm an old woman? Is that it?"

"You're the one wrapped up in a blanket, drinkin' hot chocolate to keep warm at three in the afternoon when it's gotta be pushing eighty outside," he shrugged, "It's hard to argue with the evidence."

"Screw you, Barton."  
"What, again?" he said, and chuckled, "Sure, but you might just shatter."

My opinion of _that_ was mercifully drowned out by the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut as a tornado shot into the house, followed shortly by her big brother.

"Hi Mom! Hi Dad!" Lila said, and then she hurtled upstairs to drop her school bags, "Talk to you later!"

Coop, meanwhile, came slouching into the living room to say hi. He stopped when he saw me, and his expression became a mix of incredulity and concern, "Mom, what happened to-"  
"It's not what you think," I said quickly, and held up a trembling hand, "Your Dad and I just went swimming in that lake."

"In the lake?" he said, and then his face split open into a wide grin, "Mom, it's _freezing_ this time of year!"

"I told her that," said Clint, a little smugly, "I reckon she's learned her lesson now, though."

"What I've _actually_ learned, Coop, is that you might owe your entire existence to a period of unseasonable warmth," I said sourly, "Did you have a good day at school?"

"S'okay," he said, and shrugged in his noncommittal way, "I was gonna go out cycling with my friends, if that's okay."

"With _Maria_?" I raised an eyebrow.

"And others!" he said, "It's not a date!"

"Of course not," I said, "Got any homework?"

"Did it yesterday," he said, and smiled bashfully, "I... had a lot of time on my hands."

"Good stuff," said Clint, "You've gotta keep on top of it. There's a lot of catching up to do."

"No kidding, Dad," said Coop, "Did you guys do anything interesting today?"

I exchanged a sly look with my husband, "Oh, nothing much. I read some of that stuff you gave me, watched some terrible daytime TV, had a visit from Doctor Strange, and went swimming in the lake. Usual stuff, really."

"You met Doctor Strange?" Coop blinked, "_Again?_"

"Oh, did I mention that?" I said idly, and buffed my fingers on my top, "Yeah, it seems like he was actually after _me_, this time. Very odd."

"It was about Thera and Vi, wasn't it."

"What makes you think he wouldn't be interested in _us_?" I said tartly, but then added, "You know what? Don't answer that."

"I'm gonna go drop my bag - but you gotta tell me more about this, Mom!" he said excitedly, apparently oblivious to my comment, "Doctor Strange? In _our_ house? Man, that's so cool!"

"You see? You _do_ have cool parents."

"Um…" Coop looked uncertain for a moment, "But I was right, wasn't I? I _told _you that they couldn't be any weirder if they tried! I'll be right back!"

Coop dashed from the room and followed his sister upstairs. Clint and I stared at each other, somewhat shamefacedly, as the penny finally dropped.

"Well, now I just feel stupid," he said, eventually.

"I _knew_ he'd said something important this morning!" I said, "Sorry. I got distracted."

"Nah, it all kinda makes sense, doesn't it," he exhaled, "The mysterious texts, the strange location...Thera's damn beanie hat and those weird contact lenses? Hell, even that conversation when we tapped their line! How did we pick it up when I tapped the wrong phone?"

"Because he moved- ooh," I nodded in agreement, "Yeah, that does seem kind of odd. Didn't he say that the other phone was already tapped, though?"

"If he knew the phone was tapped, how can you trust anything that they said?" Clint pointed out, "They've been reelin' us in the entire time! I was just so damn eager to wipe that smug smile off his face that I didn't stop to- _oh, goddamnit!_"

"Makes you want to kick yourself, doesn't it."

"Myself, maybe, but _you_ were right on the money," he said, "You've been saying all along that Thera was putting on an act. It's classic misdirection. _Classic_."

"Yeah, but _why_ would they do that? Why would they want to _make_ themselves look suspicious?"

"Like I said; it's misdirection," he said, "They keep us lookin' in one direction while they go and do something right under our noses. Maybe they didn't want an Avenger poking their nose into their 'Phoenix' thing."

"Or maybe they _did_," I breathed, "Think about it. They get us interested in them by acting suspicious, _really_ suspicious. We go for a couple of 'therapy' sessions with Thera while they gauge us, and then he asks me about if I'd be willing to help them-"

"-but you said 'no'-"

"_-after_ which we find that note about Bulgakov on the back of a note that's _intended_ to annoy you-"

"-so I don't think too much about it-"

"-and we follow it to that mess of a Blip Centre."

"Okay," he said, "But why? To witness Bulgakov bein' tortured?"

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't meant to happen. I'm also pretty sure they didn't want Strange breathing down their necks. Vi _definitely_ didn't. When I suggested we try and get in contact with him, she shut me down."

"But they _had _to have had a motive!"

"Well-"

There was the sound of a stampede from upstairs, and a moment later Lila burst into the room, followed almost immediately by Coop.

"Mom! Mom!" she said, "Coop said that Doctor Strange came to the house! Is it true? Is it?"

"Whoa! Slow down!" Clint said sharply, "One of these days you're gonna break your neck!"

"Sorry, Daddy," she said contritely, "But is it true? What was he like? Does he oil his beard? Is he as smart as they said? _What_ did he say?"

"I-"

"Did he invite you to wizard school like in Harry Potter? Does he have an _owl?_ I bet he has an owl. How did he get here? Did he fly? _Can _he fly? Does he have a broomstick?"

There was a loud beep from Clint's watch.

"Oh, would you look at that?" he said, and gave me a totally unapologetic grin, "It's time for me to go and get Nate. I'm sure your Mom will be able to tell you _all_ about Doctor Strange."

"Hold on a second-mmf!" my protestations were muffled as he stepped forward and kissed me goodbye. He quickly danced out of reach before I could grab him, and with one last, roguish smile he was out of sight.

"So Mom..." Coop sat down on the sofa next to me, an intent look in his eyes, "What _actually_ happened?"

For the next thirty minutes I did my level best to field the barrage of questions from my children. While I was happy enough to tell them about what Strange was like or what he was wearing, I wasn't about to tell them what he _said_. As recently-resurrected teens hurled five years into the future, they had enough to deal with already; I wasn't about to heap Bulgakov, Thera, or even 'Avenger Laura' on top of that. While Lila seemed to be happy with this arrangement (at least, to the point that she decided that Strange would probably end up in Ravenclaw) Coop was far less satisfied.

"Aw, Mom!" he said, for the umpteenth time, "This isn't fair!"

"No, Coop!" I replied, firmly, "What Doctor Strange said to us, he said privately! You want to get me turned into a frog?"

"I...don't think he can do that, Mom," he said, "But-"

"No," I said again, and followed it up this time with a Mom Look, "And if you want to be able to go out with Maria and all those other kids who I'm sure _definitely _exist, you'll drop it."

"I-but...you-" he spluttered, and his cheeks went slightly red, "They _do _exist!"

I laughed sardonically and patted him gently on the hand, "It's okay, kiddo. I was your age once. Just be glad you don't have to sneak out like I did."

"_You _snuck out?"

"All the time," I said, "I could be down that fire escape and up the alleyway before Mom could jimmy the lock to my room. _You_ should be grateful that you have such understanding parents…"

"I s'pose."

"...that can track your every move with high resolution satellites, so be good!" I said, and gave him a bright smile, "Isn't it _fun_ being the son of an Avenger?"

From outside, there came the familiar sound of car tyres on gravel. Shortly thereafter the front door clicked open and Nate came running into the front room on his little legs, yelling 'Mommy! Mommy!' as he did.

"Heya, champ!" I said, and let him scramble up onto my lap, "D'ya have a good day at school?"

"I threw up, Mommy!"

"Oh dear. Did the teachers change you?"

"No Mommy! I threw up on Sadie!"

"He's fine," said Clint, entering the room, "They reckon he just had a nervous stomach or something."

"Oh, _dear_," I said, and gave my husband a wry smile. He returned the smile easily enough, but from the tightness around his eyes I could tell something had happened, "Did they change Sadie?"

"I'm...going to go get ready to go out," Coop stood up and ruffled Nate's hair, "Cya later, bro."

"Bye bye!" Nate said happily. His gaze fell on his train set, and he suddenly began to wriggle in my arms.

"You wanna play with your trains, Nate?" I said, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, "Off you go, then!"

I set Nate down and he toddled off to play in his corner. Once our son was fully ensconced with his toys, I stood up and walked over to Clint.

"What happened?" I asked quietly, keeping one eye on Nate.

"It's gotten worse, Laura," he said anxiously, "The school gate. You can really _feel _the tension there. If it's like that _inside _the school, I ain't surprised Nate threw up."

"Why?" I said, "What's Val done?"

"It ain't just Val, although I don't reckon she's helpin' anything. " he said, "When I was waitin' for them to let out I heard a bunch of people talkin' about themselves as the 'Lost', like what Keame was sayin'. Then there were those who _weren't_ Snapped, who're mutterin' about how all the Lost are coming after their jobs and stuff. Everyone was either in one camp or the other."

"That's insane! Why are people taking sides?"

"'Cause taking sides is what humans _do_," said Clint, "But that there's a powder keg. All it's gonna take is one person sayin' something stupid, and they'll be at each other's throats before you know it."

"That's not good."

"No, it really ain't," he said, "And you can bet that it's happenin' up and down the country. Probably across the world."

"Unbelievable. You've given us a one-in-fourteen-million chance to make things right, and _this_ is how we use it?" I shook my head, "Nuh-uh. I'm not standing for this."

Clint looked at me, a ghost of a smile dancing on his face, "You aren't?"

"No!" I said, probably more firmly than I intended, "This isn't _right_, Clint. I -we- have to do something!"

"'Something'? Like what?"

"I...I don't know yet!" I balled my hands into fists, "I just can't accept that people're prepared to tear themselves apart over this! We're _all_ victims, Lost or not!"

"I thought you wanted to help the people at the Blip Centre."

"This _is_ helping the people at the Blip Centre!"

"How?"

"By...um…" I stopped, and flopped down on the sofa, "Yeah, you're right."

"Look, hon," Clint sat down next to me and took my hand in his, "You've spent half your life cheering and supportin' me while I went and did one crazy thing after another. If you wanna go help people, that's great; I'm with you just like you were with me - but you gotta help 'em in the _right _way. If you flail around tryin' to help every cause, you're gonna end up like Thera."

I blinked, "You _really_ think I'd end up like him?"

"I reckon you two're more alike than you think," he said, with a smile, "You're both fixers, for a start, an' when you get started you don't know when to stop."

"I'm not a fixer!"

"Oh, yeah?" he inclined his head, "Who bundled Coop into the car and dragged him across town 'cause he got in a fight?"

"Well-"

"Who stayed up all night fixing Lila's school project?"

"I-"

"An' _who_ agreed to marry a half-broke S.H.I.E.L.D archer who was only gettin' by thanks to his good looks and winning personality?"

"Well, that _definitely _wasn't me," I said, "You're telling me S.H.I.E.L.D. had _two _archers?"

"C'mon, you were attracted to me at least _partly_ 'cause you thought I was a lost cause!"

"You _are_ a lost cause," I said, and then added affectionately, "But you're _my_ lost cause."

"The thing about lost causes, though, is that they can turn up damn near everywhere," he said, "If you try and 'fix' the Blip Centre, the chances are that you're gonna turn up another thirty causes. What're you gonna do then? Fix those?"

"Well…um..."

"Exactly," he said, and squeezed my hand, "When we were runnin' ops in S.H.I.E.L.D, we always used to ask ourselves four things. 'What are we doing?', '_Why _are we doing this?, 'How long will it take?', and 'What does victory look like?'. We kinda know _what_ you're doing - so _why_ are you doing this?"

"I want to help people!"

"Thera wants to help people, Laura," he said, "But it's so knotted up in whatever issues he's got that he probably couldn't tell you _why_."

"So you're saying I've got _issues_, now?" I said sharply.

"No!" he said quickly, "But...you put other people's happiness before your own. You've always done that. I just don't want you to end up sacrificin' yourself chasing some impossible dream, okay?"

"That seems fair," I said.

"An' you don't have to tell me why you want to do it right now," he said, "Just...think about it, okay?"

There was a subtle, telltale creak on the stairs, and both Clint and I turned to look.

"You guys may as well come out," I said, "I think we're done here. We're done here, right?"

"Yeah," said Clint, "C'mon, guys. You know what I said about eavesdropping."

As it turned out it was just Coop, who came slowly down the stairs wearing a black and blue cycle helmet.

"Sorry, Dad," he said, contritely, "I was just coming down when you started talking, and I didn't want to interrupt, but...I couldn't just go back upstairs 'cause then you'd think I was listening in…"

"So you decided to listen to the entire thing?"

"What else could I do? I was kinda stuck! Besides-" he said, "-you can't talk about eavesdropping when you've been spending the past month spying on Thera!"

Clint gave me a quick look, "You told him about that?"

"I...may have mentioned it," I said, "It was an emotional moment!"

"And she says you're gonna spy on me as well!" Coop went on, "That's not fair!"

"You said _that_?" Clint said, and laughed, "That's a great idea, actually. Can't believe I didn't think of that myself!"

"Dad!"

"She's just teasing you, Coop," he said, "Besides, it'd be just like when your Mom and I were first goin' out. Fury set an entire team on her...for 'security' reasons."

"He _did?_" I said, "You never said anything!"

"I didn't want to scare you off!" he said, "I'm telling you though, it was like something out of a sitcom. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to be suave and romantic when Fury's sitting at the next table over, burnin' eye-holes in the back of your head?"

"I know _exactly_ how hard it is for you to be suave and romantic, thank you very much," I raised an eyebrow, "Still, that explains a lot. Like why we always got the best seats, and why that waitress kept turning up at different restaurants. I thought she was just hard working!"

"The worst bit was the dating tips," he said, and shuddered, "It was my end-of-term report card all over again. I think he was trying to help...y'know, in his own way."

"And so you see, Coop?" I said, "The way to Maria's heart is clearly through having your loving parents carry out continuous high-tech surveillance of her and her loved ones. What more can we do?"

"Um, leave me alone?" he suggested, "I'll do just fine on my own!"

"I'm sure you will," I said, and rapped my knuckles gently on his helmet, "You go have fun with Maria and all those unnamed bystanders. I promise we won't stalk you."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, and went to put on his boots.

"But be back before dinner, 'kay?" I said, "No funny business! Otherwise I really _will_ start warming up the satellites!"

"Oh, c'mon-"

"_-and_ the popcorn."


	14. Chapter 14: Five Years in Your Shoes

**Chapter 14: Five Years in Your Shoes**

The afternoon crept by, as lazy summer afternoons are often wont to do. For a while, I played catch with Nate outside while Lila's after-school shows flashed by on the TV. After that, Clint and I fell to catching up on the many farmstead chores that we'd left undone while we'd been following Thera and Vi around. Wood needed to be chopped, clothes washed, floors swept, tiles scrubbed, cobwebs removed, and of course at some point we would actually need to _eat_. After a bit of pouting and complaining, I finally managed to get Lila to go around the rooms with a feather duster and load the dishwasher while I headed outside with the ax and a determined expression on my face. While the job normally fell to Clint or Coop, I personally found it quite therapeutic, and right now I had some serious thinking to do.

"Gloves, check? Goggles, check," I muttered to myself, as I lined up my first victim. I swung the ax, and with a vicious _'crack' _the log split apart into two neat halves, "Now…"

"_Now maybe you should start thinking about _why_ you've come over all messianic,"_ said my little inner voice,_ "Clint's right, honey; why _are_ you doing this?"_

"Oh. You're back."

"_I come and go. You know that. But _why_?"_

"_Someone-_" I swung the ax with a grunt of exertion, splitting another log in twain, "-has to, don't they? Why not _me_?"

"_Because even yesterday you were attempting to abdicate responsibility."_

"A lot can change in a day."

"_Harsh truths have that effect. Don't play dumb, Laura; you _know _why Thera and Vi wanted you to go to that Blip Centre. They didn't want you to see Bulgakov; hell, they didn't even _know_ he was being tortured! They wanted you to see the plight of the people who were trapped there."_

"Why?" I said, and hefted another piece onto the stump.

"_Because they were betting that it'd spur you into action? That Blip Centre clearly got to Thera, and Clint's right; you're just like him."_

"No, I'm not!"

"_You can't lie to me, girl, I'm _you_," _there was an internal sigh, _"Look; you're kind, you're compassionate, and you hate seeing people in pain. Those're great qualities, but once they worked that out they knew _exactly _what they needed to do to put the squeeze on."_

"Okay, but then why _us?_"

"_You tell me."_

I growled irritably and swung the ax much harder than I intended. It smashed through a log, leaving kindling in its wake, and embedded itself deep in the stump underneath.

"Goddamnit!" I swore, and tugged fruitlessly at the stuck ax, "Now see what you've made me do?"

"Uh...sorry?" Clint's voice came from behind, and I jumped.

"Oh, no - not you, hon," I said, "I was...arguing with myself. Did you know I can be _really _irritating?"

"You've _just_ realised that?" he grinned, and held up the list from the fridge, "I was going to go shopping. Anything else you want?"

"Is wine on there?"

"Um...no," he said, "What do you want?"

"Dunno. Something strong."

"Good choice, madam," he said, "That's an excellent vintage."

"Careful," I said, warningly, "I _do_ have an ax."

"Only when you get it out of that stump," he said, "Need a hand?"

"Please," I snorted, and braced one foot against the wood, "I do this all the time when you're deployed. I just...need...to..._pull-"_

The ax came loose and I staggered backwards, carefully directing the blade away from my husband.

"See? Nothing to it," I said, "Now get going! You're going to have to hurry if we're going to eat before eight!"

It only took me another half hour to reduce the remainder of the woodpile to matchsticks. While I wasn't any closer to answering Clint's question, I'd worked up a sweat and felt a whole lot better. Sure, my arms felt like they were about to fall off, but I'd been meaning to tone up before summer anyway.

"_Just like last summer, and the summer before that…"_

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, and kicked off my boots, "Maybe I'll take up running again, or cycling-"

"_That's an excellent idea."_

"It is?"

"_Buying an expensive bike would let you roll a mid-life crisis, a _post-_life crisis, and a fitness regime into one neat little package. _That's _efficiency."_

"That's Laura Barton v2.0. I'm telling you, this is _my_ summe-"

The front door banged open, noisily, and Coop staggered in followed by a tall, strangely familiar girl with short curly hair. He was clutching at his nose and had dried blood all over his nose and mouth, and from the looks of it one of his eyes was already darkening into what promised to be a spectacular shiner.

"C'mon, Coop," the girl was saying encouragingly, "Let's go sit you down so's I can take a look at these injuries. Your first aid kit where it used to be?"

"Coop?" I said, with a mixture of alarm and anger, "Coop! What on earth happened?"

The girl looked up in surprise, and then her eyes widened further as she saw me striding down the hallway. For a moment, she seemed to be struck completely dumb.

"Well, Coop?" I said sternly, "Have you been fighting again?"

"Oh, no," said the girl, recovering quickly, "Coop weren't fighting. I saw it all. It was Zachary, from my boxing club. He…"

"...didn't like that 'a damn Blippie' was talking to Maria, Mom," Coop said, and sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, "Apparently _he_ was going to ask her out before the Blip, but then-"

"You snooze, you lose," the girl said cheerfully, as she took down the first aid kit and flipped it open, "'Sides, Zachary weren't ever going to ask Maria out. He's too chickenshit- um...if you'll pardon my language, Mrs B."

"Hold on - you're not Maria?" I paused, and gave her another long look. She _was_ very familiar, and there was only one person who had ever called me 'Mrs B'... "Wait..._Maisie?_"

The girl stopped rooting through the first aid kit and gave me a small smile, "Been a while, Mrs. B."

"Christ," I said wonderingly, "Look at you! You're all...grown up!"

"Yeah," she said, quietly, "Five years'll do that."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's okay!" Maisie said quickly, "Do you have some ice, Mrs B? He's going to need it for that eye. I'll get this blood off and clean that cut."

"Sure," I said, and went to the freezer for some ice cubes, "So what _happened_, Coop?"

"Zachary was pissed off that I was talking to Maria, Mom!" he said, angrily, "I didn't want to fight him or anything, but then he just hit me in the fac- ah, damnit!"

"Sorry," said Maisie. She was dabbing at his face with a sterile wipe, "I know it stings. Anyway, I were out running and heard all the commotion, and turned up just in time to see Zachary take him down. I intervened before he could get properly stuck in."

"She was pretty awesome, Mom," Coop said, "That guy looked like he was going to wet himself."

"Yeah? Well, just wait until our next club session," Maisie said, dangerously, "Assuming Dad doesn't just ban him outright, I'll make sure he'll be doing push-ups until his arms explode. It's for self-defence, not hitting people 'cause they were talking to a girl you like."

"Hold on - 'Dad'?" I gave her a quick look, "But you don't have a-"

"My adoptive Dad. My mom...was Snapped."

"Oh, _Maisie_. I'm so sorry," I said, and my heart went out to her, "You lost so much that day, didn't you."

"It's okay, Mrs B," she said, although there was a slight waver in her voice, "You know my mom weren't really a good person. My new family's much better. Really."

"You'll have to tell me all about them."

"Sure. But let's patch up Coop first, eh?" she said, and turned to my son, "Honestly, the _one_ time you could've hit back and you didn't. What gives?"

"Didn't want to just start brawling in front of Maria," he said, "Figured I'd take the high road."

"How very gentlemanly. You realise Zach could've really hurt you, right?" she paused, "I'd be careful with Maria, too. She seems nice, but...whenever there's drama, she's somehow involved."

I finished wrapping the ice cubes in a towel, and handed them to Maisie.

"Thanks, Mrs B," she said briskly, "Right, Coop. Just hold this to your eye and keep it there for twenty minutes. Wait forty minutes, and then repeat it again until you go to bed. Got it?"

"Yeah," he said, "Thanks, Maisie. You're a lifesaver."

"Just doin' my good turn for the day," said Maisie, and added quickly, "It was good to see you again, Mrs B. I'm glad you're keepin' well...but I need to get back to my run. My folks're expecting me."

"You're not staying?" I said, with some surprise, "Can't I at least get you a glass of water?"

Maisie stiffened slightly, and a mixture of guilt and anxiety crept across her face, "Um. I probably shouldn't. I…"

"Is this about Lila? I heard about what happened at school."

"I messed up, Mrs B," she said, sadly, "It was the one time I really needed _not_ to, and instead I messed it up so badly it ended up on the Internet."

"I know," I said gently, "But Maisie, you are _far_ from the only person who's screwed up after the Blip. Take me, for example; I spent most of a month in complete denial, almost wrecked my marriage, and punched Nate's PTA chair in the face!"

"I saw the video," she said, with another small smile, "You should've broken your wrist."

"So I've heard," I've said, "It's...not my proudest moment. But we _all _make mistakes, and unlike Liv, Lila's not the sort to hold a grudge. You know that."

"...yeah," she said, and smiled wistfully, "I know."

"So why not talk to her? Whatever happens, it's gotta be better than just staring at her during those Blip Classes."

"You...you heard about that?" she looked away for just a moment, "I was just trying to make sure she was okay, but I couldn't find the right moment to..."

"I know."

"And I don't want to screw it up anymore than I already have!"

"Lila feels the same way," I said reassuringly, "She's been wanting to talk to you too, but she's scared of making you feel sad. Her words."

"Really?" Maisie sounded both surprised and hopeful.

"Really," I said, "Look, would you feel better if I went to talk to her first? She's just upstairs doing her homework."

"Do you think that would help?" she said, "I don't want to be a coward, but…"

"It'll be fine," I said, and patted her gently on the shoulder, "Tell you what, afterwards we'll all have some hot chocolate. With cream and sprinkles."

"Just like I used to like it..." she said, and blinked back sudden tears, "Thanks, Mrs B."

"It's my pleasure," I said, "Just wait here with Coop for two minutes, and if I don't come back down then feel free to come up, okay? Oh, and get yourself a glass of water or something! It's boiling out there."

* * *

Lila was sitting at her desk, carefully colouring in a map of Africa with a look of intense concentration. As I entered, she looked up and gave me a broad smile.

"Hi Mom," she said brightly, "Check out my map! Did you know that the hippopotamus is more dangerous than a crocodile?"

"I know that you shouldn't get between them and water," I said, and gave her map a quick glance, "That's very pretty, Lila!"

"Thanks!" she said, "I just need to finish off Madagascar and then I'm done!"

"That's great," I said, and sat down on her bed, "Um...Maisie's here. She'd like to say sorry."

"She is?" my daughter leapt to her feet excitedly, "I should-"

"Wait, pumpkin," I said, "She'll come up shortly, but I just wanted to say a couple of things. First, you need to _listen_ to her. Really, really hard, okay?"

"Okay, Mom."

"Give her a chance to talk. You don't have to accept her apology, but...just listen."

"I said _okay_!" she said sharply, and shifted in her seat, "When's she coming up?"

"Just a moment. She's just down with Coop at the moment."

"Why?" Lila said, and I thought I detected a faint note of jealousy, "She's _my_ friend!"

"Cool it, kiddo," I said, "Coop...well, it's not important, but-"

There was a gentle creak from the stairwell, and then I heard feet gently padding along the upstairs landing. A moment later, there was an uncertain tap on the wall.

"Um...Mrs B? Lila?" Maisie said, "Is it okay if…"

"Maisie!" Lila said, and then gave me an abashed look, "I mean, um...Maisie. Come in!"

The tall girl poked her head around the corner, an anxious expression on her face. She gave Lila and myself a weak, unsure smile and then her gaze flickered around the room. Once again, her eyes went wide and she seemed to be momentarily struck dumb. This time, I understood; the last time she'd set foot in this room had been almost half a decade ago, during much happier times. Even knowing everything that had happened, seeing us sitting here, almost completely unchanged, must have been so confusing for her.

"Um...Maisie?" Lila said, "You...um…"

"You've...redecorated," Maisie said eventually, "I thought it'd be exactly the same, but…"

"Oh!" Lila said, and looked around herself, "All my stuff got really mouldy or covered in animal poop. Look! I got new bedsheets! I wanted the Blue Unicorn this time, 'cause he's really cool and-"

"Lila," I said gently.

"Oh, yeah," she said, "Sorry."

"You lost all your stuff, huh?" Maisie gave her a complicated look with just a hint of an edge, "That's rough."

"It's just stuff," shrugged Lila, "I wish I could find my Pink Unicorn figurine, but...I'm alive, right?"

"Yeah," said Maisie, in the same tense tone, "Yeah."

The tall girl stepped into the room and walked unsteadily to the bed, almost as if she was in a dream. She looked slowly up and down its length and then sat down next to me, staring blankly towards Lila's large oaken wardrobe.

"That hasn't changed," she said dully, "Same old wardrobe. You lose all your clothes too?"

"Yeah," my daughter said, "Rats or something."

"Huh."

There was a long, awkward silence, and I could feel the tension in the room creep up another notch.

"So...how's your archery?" asked Maisie, "Going okay?"

"Yeah. I shot Mum in the face yesterday."

"That must have hurt."

"It certainly did!" I laughed. It sounded forced even to me, and was quickly swallowed up by the oppressive atmosphere, "I...um…"

"You still like that unicorn show, yeah?" Maisie looked at the bedsheet again, "Of course you do. Why wouldn't you?"

"Um...are you okay, Mai?" asked Lila, and I saw Maisie suddenly grit her teeth.

"I'm...fine," she said, although her voice was tight, "It's just...this isn't what I imagined it'd be like."

"How did you imagine it'd be?"

"I don't know," she said, "Different."

"Um...sorry…"

"Don't be sorry!" Maisie said, and suddenly sprang to her feet, "This isn't your fault! _None _of this is your fault! You didn't ask for the Snap to choose you! You've just...always been lucky. _Always_."

"Maisie!" I said sharply, and then stopped. I thought I'd been lucky once, too.

"Lucky?" said Lila, "You think we're _lucky_?"

"You didn't have to live through the past five years, Lila! You can't imagine what it was like. Those kids in that Blip Class? I went to half their funerals! There was rationing, blackouts, and…" she closed her eyes and clenched her fists, "I lost you. That was the worst bit. I lost you and there wasn't even a damn memorial. I had to do it myself."

Lila got slowly to her feet and came close to the trembling teenager, "It's okay, Mai."

"No, it's not!"

"I know," she said, "I mean it's okay that it's not okay. But...it can be, right?"

"I dunno!" Maisie looked helplessly at me, "I want it to be, but…"

My mind spun very quickly, and I desperately tried to think about what Thera would have done in this situation.

"_Make a stupid, smartass comment and screw it up for everyone?"_ my little inner voice pointed out, _"Don't do it like him. Do it like _you!_ You've got this_."

"Okay...um…" I said, and then patted the bed beside me, "C'mon, Maisie. Why don't you sit down and tell us what happened while we were-" I looked quickly at Lila, "-Snapped? It might help."

"Do you really think so?"

"Friends talk to each other, right?" I said, and she nodded slowly, "You don't have to say anything that hurts too much, but-"

"No, it's okay. I've told it all to a shrink already," she sat back down and looked over at Lila, "You wanna sit down too, or are you just going to stand there catching flies?"

"I...um," Lila plopped herself down on the floor and smiled, "I'm listening. Really, I am."

"Good…well. Where do I start…?"

For Maisie, the Snap had started off with all the hallmarks of a regular summer's day. She'd gotten up in the trailer she shared with her mom, made herself breakfast, and then played alone outside until her mom roused herself from a drunken stupor. There was some yelling, probably; her mom liked to take her frustrations with life, the universe, and everything out on her daughter from time to time. Once that had calmed down, and the tears had been washed away, Maisie was left to watch daytime TV while her mother did the washing up.

The first sign that something was wrong had been the sound of a plate smashing. That wasn't _that_ unusual; years of heavy drinking had wrecked Maisie's mom's co-ordination. When she went into the kitchen to see if her mom was alright, however, all she found were shards of shattered ceramic and a puff of ash, vanishing into the extractor fan. Outside, she could hear screaming, and through the windows she watched in terror as men, women, children, and animals all slowly dissolved and floated away into the cloudless sky. Back in the living room, the TV showed daytime TV in chaos; and the last thing she saw was the presenter exploding into soot before it cut to the emergency signal.

"At that moment, all I could think about was you," she said to Lila, "I grabbed my phone and rang you, and rang you, and...you never picked up. But then-" she shrugged, "-you often didn't. I tried your mom, too, and…nothing. It didn't even ring."

"I was holding my phone when I was Snapped," I said.

"That'd explain it," she said, "Anyway…"

Without so much as a second thought, Maisie had grabbed her bike and cycled over to our house as quickly as she could. It was completely deserted, with only the sound of the radio babbling an emergency broadcast signal over and over again. With mounting dread she'd checked the garage and found the car gone, and decided to wait just in case we'd happened to have gone out on a morning drive. That faint hope, though, was cruelly dashed when she wandered around to the back and found my hotdogs, still laid out exactly as I left them. They weren't sizzling anymore, but they _were_ warm to the touch, and at that moment she knew that we'd been taken.

"I completely lost it," Maisie said, tears welling in her eyes, "I fell to the ground and just just started..._screaming_, over and over again. I couldn't stop."

I felt a twist, deep inside, and put a consoling arm around her quivering shoulders, "I'm sorry. That must have been so hard for you, Maisie."

"Yeah..." Lila said, and got up off the floor to sit on her other side, "But were the hotdogs good? I never got to try them."

"Lila!" I gave her a stern look.

"What? I know Maisie. She wouldn't let food like that go to waste."

"They were the best," Maisie looked up and smiled, "You really missed out, and...well, that screaming must have really worked up an appetite. I didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay, kiddo," I said, "I'm glad _someone_ enjoyed them!"

"After that I...came up here," she patted the sheets, "I lay down on your bed, curled up with one of your figurines, and waited for my turn. I must have laid here for hours before they found me."

"Who...who found you?"

"The police. They were going house to house to find out who'd been...dusted, and to make sure none of us newly orphaned kids got stuck inside and starved to death or burned the place down," she sighed, "That actually happened a couple of times, you know…"

Things were rough after that. With nobody left to take care of her, Maisie was placed in a group care home with other grieving orphans. It was a mess; each day was a blur of tantrums, fights, and emotional breakdowns. While the carers did everything they could, they were battling both against the children's loss and whatever the Snap had done to their own families.

After a month, she was placed as part of a programme looking to link parents who had lost children with children who had lost parents. Her new family had lost a three-year-old boy, Alvin, who had been Snapped out of his grandparents hands while they'd been on a day out downstate. The dad was an architect, who was rushed off his feet keeping his firm together with only half its staff and collapsing demand, and the mom was an interior designer. They lived in a large house close to town, much nicer than her mom's trailer or the group care home, but despite that life wasn't much easier.

"It was hard at first," she said, "I knew they were trying. They were strict, but kinda nice...y'know, the opposite of my mom?"

"I know," I said grimly.

"My Dad kept laying down all these ridiculous rules that I had to follow, and my Mom spent most of her time completely out of it in Alvin's room. I wasn't ever allowed in there, though; she kept it like some kind of weird shrine to him."

"Everyone grieves differently."

"Yeah. I grieved by having these massive screaming matches with my Dad...and I even ran away a couple of times. Came back here once, actually," she smiled crookedly, "You know what? I was a _terrible_ daughter, like, really, _really_ bad, but they never stopped trying with me. It didn't really help, though, not until I had this really weird dream about you, Lila."

"About me?" Lila cocked her head in surprise.

"Yeah," Maisie nodded, "I used to dream about us all the time, y'know, playing together, watching TV, all those sleepovers...but this time you were _really _pissed off with me. You were yelling and screaming stuff about how I was giving up and not trying... and if our friendship had meant anything to me then I'd damn well get off my ass and start making something of my life! It was a damn nightmare, let me tell you."

"That sounds horrible!"

"It worked, though," she said, "After that, I convinced myself that you were somehow spying on me through one of my toys. I started to talk to it like it was actually you, and...believe me, _that_ got Mom and Dad worried. My counsellor referred me to a shrink, but he just thought that I was a grieving thirteen year old. So...I had a choice; either I could spend my life terrified of falling asleep in case _you_ were waiting, or I could actually start _trying_!"

She laughed suddenly, "Mom and Dad couldn't believe it, and you know what? Neither could I. The harder I tried, the easier things got! I made new friends, tried new things, and even started getting involved in my Dad's boxing club. If I keep my grades up, I'm going to college next year! Me, Lila! Can you imagine it? It's just the local community college, but..."

"Then the Blip happened, right?" I said.

"Yeah. First thing I knew about it was when someone suddenly popped into existence right in the middle of a training bout-" she winced, "-and I kinda cracked him across the jaw. But then I saw on the club TV that people were coming back to life all over, and then...you rang. And rang. And _rang_."

"You never answered," said Lila, accusingly.

"I didn't know what to _say!_" said Maisie, "I tried talking to my Mom and Dad, but they were trying to find out where Alvin was! So instead I came up with this idea; I was gonna be the cool older friend, the one who could help you get back into the world after five years away - you know, like some kind of time-travelling tour guide! I had it all sorted out, y'know, but as that first day of school crept closer and closer, I started to worry more and more."

"I think I see where you're going," I said.

"Probably," she agreed, "I thought I could keep a handle on it, Lila, but when I saw you skipping across the playground just like you _always_ did, it was like the past five years somehow didn't matter to you. It was like you were somehow _mocking_ everything I'd been through - and I know you'd never do that-" she said, before Lila could object, "-but something inside me just snapped. I totally _freaked_."

Lila looked down at the floor, "I remember."

"And I'm so, _so_ sorry that I did," said Maisie, in a quavering voice, "I'm more sorry about that than anything else I've ever done. It could've been - _should_ have been one of the happiest moments in our lives, and I made it something horrible. I scared and humiliated you in front of the whole school."

"...yeah. Yeah, you kinda did."

"And I'm also sorry that I've been such a coward," she went on, "I should've come over here straight away and apologised, but instead...I'm sorry, Lila. I let you down. I should've been there for you and I wasn't."

My daughter stared at her in silence, and then a smile spread across her face, "You haven't let me down, Maisie. You're here now, and it sounds like you've spent the past five years kicking ass!"

"You made damn sure of that."

"But you're right…" Lila went on, "Hearing about all that stuff about group care and stuff? I _was_ lucky. I just Blipped, and I think I thought that I could just pick up with you where I'd left off. Maybe I should've been more sensitive."

"Nah. I probably would've lashed out regardless. I had all these feelings just..._knotted_ up inside. They had to come out somehow, but I shouldn't have unloaded on you like that."

"_Kinda like Vi, wouldn't you say?"_ observed my inner voice,_ "There's only so much one person can take before they start to crack."_

"Well...I'm glad you're here," said Lila, and then added sadly, "I guess we can't be best friends anymore, huh?"

"We'll _always_ be friends, Lila," Maisie said reassuringly, "But it's going to be different. I'm...seventeen now. I like different things."

"I know," my daughter sniffed, and I gave her a reassuring pat on the back, "I just don't _want_ it to be different. It's not fair!"

"I know. But I'll always be here for you. Think of me like your cool older sister; you can talk to me about _anything_…" she paused, and gave me a sly look, "'specially those kinds of things you might be too embarrassed to tell Mrs B."

"Hey!" I objected.

"C'mon, Mrs B," she said, "You can't tell me that you told your mom _everything_."

"I didn't tell my mom _anything_," I admitted, "But I wasn't exactly a model daughter."

"And besides, Lila, you seemed to be hitting it off with that Allegra girl," Maisie added encouragingly, "One of her cousins actually goes to my club, and he says she's really nice."

"But she's not _you!_" Lila suddenly burst into tears "You're-"

"-right here," said Maisie, and gave her a long, tight hug, "I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

I sat there in silence, unwilling to disturb the two as Maisie gently comforted my daughter. I could feel my heart swelling, though, and found myself blinking away sudden tears of my own.

"_Well done, Laura!" _said my little inner voice, _"And I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that you didn't do anything."_

"But I _didn't_ do anything!" I murmured.

"_Really? You gave Maisie the push she needed to talk to Lila. By being here, you gave Lila the support she needed to listen to Maisie. It's almost exactly what Thera did for you and Clint."_

"You think so?"

"_If I do, it's because _you_ think so. I'm _you_, remember?"_

After a short while Masie and Lila disengaged, and Maisie gently ruffled my daughter's hair.

"See, kid? It's not all bad," she said, "Although I, um, do have a confession to make. Your pink unicorn figurine? I...have it."

"You do? You _stole _it?" said Lila, and she gave Maisie an annoyed shove, "That was my favourite!"

"I know!" said Maisie quickly, "I...I wanted something to remember you by! When I said you were watching me, I thought you were watching me _through_ that thing. I called it 'Lila' and I used to play with it like it was...you," she paused, "Actually, it was pretty weird."

"Not _that_ weird," said Lila, "I do that all the time."

"After I got over that, though, it kinda became a good luck charm. I've had it on my table every time I've had an exam, and I take it with me to all my boxing tournaments. It...felt like you were there, cheering me on."

My daughter paused, and then said, "Keep it."

"You sure? I could bring it over-"

"I'm sure. You've had her longer than I did, and I'm glad she's gone to a good home," Lila shrugged, "It's just stuff. Besides, now I can cheer you on for _real_."

Maisie smiled, "Thanks, Lila."

"But...maybe there's something you could do for me," Lila said, and her eyes grew as big as saucers, "Could you watch an episode of _Samurai Unicorns_ with me? Please? For old time's sake."

"I...sure," the teen grinned indulgently, "Next Blip Class, remind me to lend you some of the stuff you've missed. They're even _better_ than _Samurai Unicorns_."

"Nah. That's not possible."

I coughed, and stood up, "Well, girls, I'm glad you could talk this out. I'm going to go make that hot chocolate I promised."

"Thanks, Mrs B," said Maisie, and then her expression turned more serious, "And _thanks_. I feel so much better now. 'Like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders."

"Great!" I smiled, "Would you like to stay for dinner? It wouldn't be any trouble; I'll just text Clint and ask him to pick up a few more things."

"I really should be getting back to my folks..." Maisie began, but then she caught Lila's suddenly pleading expression, "Okay, fine! I'll let 'em know. Christ, Lila, those are some Grade A puppy-dog eyes. How did I forget about them?"

"Never used 'em on you," my daughter said smugly. She sprang to her feet and grabbed Maisie's hand, "Now come on! I've got some _Samurai Unicorn_ DVDs downstairs!"

* * *

Once they'd gone I texted Clint to let him know what had happened _and_ to grab extra sausages for Maisie. After that, I went to check on Coop, who was playing a kids game with Nate even while he clutched the ice bag to his face. As I thought his black eye was developing fantastically, and he'd no doubt have quite the story to tell at school tomorrow. Everything in the house seemed to be basically in order, though, so I retreated back upstairs and spent a good hour or so reading more about the Blip. The disasters remained mostly the same, but now when I thought about how it might have affected the poor, newly-orphaned Maisie, I could feel the pangs of sympathy nibbling around the edges.

Clint returned eventually and I wasted no time in getting the dinner on. Maisie had always loved my jambalaya, and her eyes sparkled like stars when I brought the steaming pot to the dinner table. In some strange way, having her there made dinner seem more...normal. Sure, she was seventeen, almost as tall as Clint, and dressed in slightly sweaty exercise clothing, but she was still _Maisie_. That being said, she had _definitely_ grown up, and I was pretty sure that the admiring looks that Coop was giving her from across the table weren't _entirely _due to her getting him out of a jam. Sooner or later, him and I were going to have to have a talk.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon by the time Maisie declared that she really _had_ to make a move. Although she seemed to be perfectly happy to run back to town through the forest, I insisted that I drove her home instead. It wasn't that the forests were particularly _dangerous_, per se, but they certainly weren't a place to go running in the dark with only a phone for light. Once she'd said her goodbyes, we hopped in the car and before long were humming swifty down the country lanes back towards civilisation.

"Thanks, Mrs B," said Maisie. She gave the interior of the car an appreciative look, "This is _nice_. Is it new?"

"Couple of months," I said, "Clint brought it just after the Blip."

"Mmm," she gave me an aside glance, "I guess that saving the universe pays well, eh?"

"I…um…"

"It's okay, Mrs B," she said reassuringly, "I just never realised that Lila's dad was one of the _Avengers_! I mean, I always _thought _that Hawkeye looked kinda familiar but...that's crazy! Really cool, but crazy."

"Sometimes it feels like that, yeah," I agreed, "But please don't tell anyone. We moved down here to avoid exactly that."

"Oh, I ain't gonna tell nobody, Mrs B," she said, "I figure someone like him has to have made a couple of enemies. No way I want to bring any of 'em down around here."

"Yeah," I thought for a moment about Ronin, and all the criminal gangs who would probably _love_ the opportunity to get to know him a little better, "No. We don't want that."

"But if it's not too weird, could you thank him for me?" she said, "He's a damn hero. Everyone at the club says so, too."

"Sure," I said, and gave her a brief smile, "Sure, Maisie."

We drove on in silence for a little while longer, but I could tell from the silence that she desperately wanted to say something.

"Um…" she began, "Can I tell you something? It might seem a little weird, but…"

"What?"

"I missed you," she said, with a catch in her voice, "I missed you almost as much as I missed Lila. All the times you were there for me; helping me with my homework, feeding me when my mom forgot or passed out...letting me sleep over all those times. You did more for me than anyone else."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," I said, sincerely, "I used to lie awake thinking about you - hell, I even called CPS a bunch of times, but-"

"My mom got really good at palming them off," said Maisie, "It wasn't your fault. It's just...when I realised that you'd been Snapped as well? That's when I _really_ felt alone."

"Yeah," I blinked away sudden tears, and gripped the steering wheel even tighter, "I'm so sorry, Maisie. If I'd...survived, I would've taken you in like a shot."

"I know that," said Maisie, "But it's okay, Mrs B! I've _got_ a family. They're not perfect, but they're mine. I don't need my mom anymore - and you know what? I'm _never_ talking to her again! I hope she crawls into a bottle and dies there!"

"I…" I thought for a moment about how to put this, "I know what you mean. I hated my mom too."

"You did?"

"Yeah. She was always so judgemental, so _picky_. I was an honours student at high school, despite all my...extracurricular activities, but none of my work was ever good enough for her. She kept telling me that there was no point in trying hard or starting anything new because I was just going to fail…" I sighed, "Eventually she kind of took up residence in my head. Just this little niggling voice, always cutting me down and berating me for my failures. I ended up crashing out of college in my first year."

"She sounds just like my mom."

"She wasn't as bad," I said, "And after she died I realised that she'd been acting like that because she was still grieving for my Dad. They loved each other more than anyone I've ever known, and I was a constant reminder to her of what she'd lost. She just couldn't handle it."

"That's not an excuse, though!"

"No, it's really not," I agreed, "But it _is_ an explanation, and it helped me let go of my anger. I mean, what's the point of raging at a dead woman? The only person it was hurting was me."

"My mom ain't dead, though."

"Yeah, but you don't have to see her again if you don't want to. Nobody can force you," I smiled, "I think you'll be fine. Like Lila said you've spent the last five years kicking ass, and I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks, Mrs B. That means a lot," she said, "And...y'know, if you ever need someone to look after the kids while you and your husband go out, I've done loads of babysitting. I'm first aid trained too."

"That _would _be nice," I said, "Coop's almost old enough, but…Nate's a lot of responsibility."

"He's no worse than some I've looked after," she said, and giggled quietly at some memory.

"And Coop?" I raised an eyebrow, "He won't be happy about being 'babysat'."  
"Give me five minutes and he'll be eating out of the palm of my hand," she said confidently, "C'mon, Mrs B, you were young once. You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm sure I don't!" I felt my cheeks prickle with sudden warmth.

"Uh-huh," she said dubiously, "I bet the boys were all fighting over _you_, weren't they."

"I…" I quickly changed the subject, "And how much would you charge for your services?"

"Oh, I couldn't charge you, Mrs B!" she said, and actually sounded a little offended, "Not after everything you've done for me!"

"I'm not going to take advantage of that, Maisie," I said firmly, "Tell you what. One free session and we'll call it even. I'll make sure there's dinner for you, too."

"Are you sure?"

"Dead sure. And you're right; it would be nice to go on a date with Clint once in a while. Haven't done that in…" I mentally checked off the days in my head, "...too long."

"My mom and dad go out at least once a month," said Maisie, "They say it keeps things fresh- oh, it's just down here. Next left."

We pulled up in front of the large, iron-wrought gates leading to Maisie's house. I had to admit that, compared to her old mobile trailer, it was a pretty huge upgrade. Beyond the gate's thick bars, a carefully maintained gravel path followed a long, gentle curve through finely landscaped gardens to a house that, had it been any larger, would have been called a mansion. In the deepening gloom, the garden was illuminated by a scattering of gentle globe lights, which picked out the brilliant colours in the flowerbeds and caught the spray of an ornate fountain as a shimmer of rainbow mist.

"Wow," I said, eventually, "That's…nice."

"It's...yeah,," Maisie said, and actually looked a little embarrassed, "My dad's job pays really well, but he has to work really hard, too. Sometimes he doesn't even come home at weekends."

"What was his job again? Architect?"

"Sorta. He designs buildings for...sensitive places. You know, places you don't want people to get in or out of. He's one of the best."

"You don't say," I said, and squinted at the mailbox, "Bennett? Is that your new name?"

"Yeah, Maisie Bennett," she said, and grinned wryly, "My Dad hates our name - but then he's called Gordon so…"

"Hah," I said, "Doesn't look like anyone's home, though."

"No," the girl looked at the house, and then her face became set, "There's something else I need to tell you. Dad didn't want me to tell anyone, but…"

"What?" I said, "What's going on, Maisie?"

"They haven't found Alvin yet," she said anxiously, "Mom and Dad have been searching since the Blip, but...nothing. They got in contact with the Simon Keame Foundation - you know, the one that's trying to reunite people? Even _they're_ struggling."

I felt a chill pass through me, but tried to be reassuring, "There's a lot of cases to get through, Maisie. It's hard work."

"Don't you think they'd be prioritising a three year old with no parents, though?" she said angrily, but then shook her head, "I know...I know that everyone's struggling, but I just want to meet my baby brother!"

"You will, Maisie. I'm sure of it."

"But that's not everything," she went on, "Dad's started getting these phone calls. I don't know what they're about, but I'm pretty sure they're not good. I think someone's threatening him."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Not _entirely_," she admitted, "But sometimes when his phone rings he suddenly looks really anxious and takes it into his study. I...listened at the door a couple of times. He sounded scared."

"Could it be about a contract? Maybe someone's really on his case."

She shook her head, "No. After those calls he normally comes out and he and Mom have some kind of argument...but recently they've been going somewhere. I'm not sure where, but…I kinda feel like it's bad. Like someone's blackmailing him."

"Maybe," I said evenly. I thought briefly of the Bulgakovs, but decided that that was best kept to myself. I didn't want to scare her any more than she clearly already was.  
"What do you think's going on, Mrs B?" she said, and I could see the worry etched across her face, "I'm scared for them. I'm worried that they're getting involved in something dangerous."

"I can't say, but thank you for telling me," I said, "I'm not sure if there's anything I can do to help, but...if I can, I will."

"Please don't get them in trouble!" she said quickly, "Or, uh, me. Don't tell them I talked to you!"  
"I won't say anything," I promised, "And I happen to know that Clint can be _very_ discreet. It'll be fine."

Maisie looked relieved for just a moment, but then the worry returned in force. With a sigh, she unbuckled herself and stepped out of the car, "Thanks again, Mrs B. I'll...be seeing you."

"Don't be a stranger, Maisie," I said, and added, "I mean that. If you ever need to talk to me about this or anything else, you're always welcome at our house. Lila would love to see you as well."

"I'll make sure to talk to her at Blip Class," she promised, "If nothing else, I'll get her to watch something _besides_ that _Samurai Unicorn_ show. You know that it's hand-drawn by Koreans on slave wages, right?"

"I do now!" I said, "But...look, we'll get to the bottom of this. I promise you."

That seemed to satisfy Maisie, and she closed the car door with a soft click. I watched silently as she passed in front of the car and pressed her thumb against a small biometric lock set into the wall. There was a squeak, a grinding noise, and then the gates slid open. Maisie quickly slipped through and headed down the gravel path. Before long, she was lost in the gloom.

I leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes, and sighed long and hard. Today had definitely not turned out how I'd expected it to.

"_You know what's going on, don't you,"_ said my voice,_ "We've seen this all before. Just...not with a three year old in the picture."_

"Yeah," I sighed. This was _far_ too similar to the situation with Bulgakov to be a coincidence, "I have to do something."

"_Obviously."_

"Would they _really_ hurt a kid?"

"_Maybe they already tried. We can't say for sure that what happened to those kids in the Blip Centre _wasn't _an accident. Did Flora _really_ leave the lock off? And even if she did, most painkillers are child-proofed. That's a pretty precocious pair of prepubescents."_

"Very clever," I muttered, "But kinda paranoid at the same time."

"_Maybe. We'd better tell Clint."_

"Actually…I was thinking of involving-"

"_No. You _wouldn't_!"_

"We need people who're already involved with the Blip Centres! People who know the ground!" I said, "Vi and Thera are...the _logical _choice."

"_You mean the choice who you really want to talk to,"_ the voice said acidly, _"You're unbelievable sometimes. Vi lights up at you, and _you're_ going crawling back?"_

"I am _not_ going to go crawling back!" I snapped, "I'm just going to ask her to help find out...what's going on. That's all. If she happens to _want_ to apologise at the same time...well, so much the better."

"_Uh-huh. You _know_ Clint isn't going to like this. Vi really got under his skin, and if he hears that you've gone to them over him…"_

"I won't be going to them over him!" I said, although even to me that rang kind of hollow, "I'll ring him on the way, and then...it'll be _us_ going to them. How about that?"

"_Please; he'll see through _that_ one instantly, and it's not a debate if you're telling him something _after _you've already decided to do it. Look, this is the right thing to do, but it's _also_ going to hurt his feelings. He's never been a 'big picture' kind of guy; do you think he'll understand?"_

"I'll have to _make_ him understand," I said, as I dialled up the sat-nav on the car's display, "There's a pattern developing here, and in the end we're kinda out of options."


	15. Chapter 15: There Will Be Consequences

**Chapter 15: There Will Be Consequences**

It wasn't exactly a _long_ drive from Maisie's house to the warehouse, but it was long enough for the doubt to start to set in. Unlike our last car this one glided almost silently down the interstate, with only the distant rumble of tyres on tarmac to keep me company. In the almost deafening silence, I played pensively with the radio but eventually gave up; I wasn't in the mood for late night rock-and-roll, and I couldn't even work out what Clint's other favourites were meant to be.

"_Heavy metal?"_ said the little voice, _"You used to love heavy metal."_

"No."

"_Classical? How about a nice bit of Bach?"_

"A harpsichord concerto? I'll pass."

"_You could call Clint. You're gonna need to call him anyway before he freaks out again and cooks everything in the house."_

I paused. The idea _did_ have a certain promise…

"_Have you forgotten the incident with the steaks?"_

"They weren't that bad!" I protested, "I like my steaks both blue and well done!"

"_Yeah, but not at the same time."_

"...point," I conceded, and raised my voice, "Okay, fine! I'll call him. He's just...not going to be happy about this."

"_Getting cold feet?"_

"No," I said firmly, "I've gotta do this."

"_Good."_

"Glad to hear you agree," I muttered, and raised my voice, "Car? Call Clint."

There was a soft 'beep' from the speakers, and then the ringing of the phone filled the cabin. As I waited for my husband to pick up I felt a sense of anxiety settle deep in the pit of my stomach. What was I going to tell him? Why hadn't I rehearsed what I was going to say in advance? Was he going to be reasonable about this? I knew full well how bull-headed he could be at times, and Vi had managed to cut him to the quick with only a couple of words-

The phone _'clicked'_ as Clint answered, "Hi hon. What's up?"

"Oh...nothing much," I said, with rather forced casualness, "Just dropped Maisie off."

"Great," he said, "How was it for you? You okay?"

"Yeah, I suppose," I said, and sighed, "I mean, I'm glad she's okay, but...it's bittersweet, I guess."

"Flavour of the month."

"Hah," I snorted, "How's Lila?"

"Quiet," he said, "She ain't said much since Maisie left. I think she might be startin' to realise what being Blipped _really_ means for her."

"Poor girl."

"She'll bounce back before you know it. Lila's tough, hon," he said, reassuringly, "'Takes after her mom."

"I hope so," I said, and then another thought occurred, "Um, about Coop…"

"You saw that too?" Clint laughed, "Reckon he's gonna want to take up boxing?"

"Over my dead body!" I said sharply, and my husband laughed again.

"Yeah, I'll talk to him. How's Maisie's new family? Did you meet them?"

"No, but I saw her house," I said, "It's _enormous_. Apparently her dad's an architect."

"Traded up during the Blip, huh?" he asked, in a rather wry tone, "Good for her. I remember what you used to say about her mom."

"Yeah. She was terrible."

"So...when're you coming back? I was going to start putting Nate to bed."

"I...um," I paused, "Clint, are you alone?"

"Yeah, but hold on…" there was a soft click of a door being closed, "Right, door's closed. What's the matter, Laura?"

"Well..." I said, "Look, Maisie told me something. Something bad."

"What?" he said intently, "Is it about her new folks? They ain't hurtin' her, are they?"

"No, no! It's about her brother. They... haven't been about to find him."

"That's...yeah, that's bad," he said, "But they've got loads of cases to work through. Remember what Thera said? I helped dump one hundred fifty million warm bodies on the US government without any warning. It's gonna take time for them to get it all sorted out."

"It's more than that, Clint," I said, "They've been getting suspicious phone calls, and both her Mom and Dad have been going places at night. She doesn't know where."

"Well, _that's_ suspicious," he agreed, "You reckon someone's taking advantage of them?"

"I...I really want to be wrong about this," I said, "But it feels like Bulgakov all over again."

"Hold on, hon-"

"It fits, Clint!" I said firmly, "Think about what we heard on Caleb's phone and Sophia! They were threatening her with Bulgakov's life if she didn't hand over that…#273 or whatever it was."

"She said she told them everything she could…" Clint mused, "You're worried they're doing the same here?"

"I'm worried a kid's life might be in danger," I said, "We need to do _something_."

"Whoa - hold on, Laura," Clint said quickly, "We agreed that we'd step back. We can talk to Fury, and Dr. Strange-"

"Neither of them know the Blip Centres!" I said, "Alvin got Snapped when he was in south Missouri. If we're lucky, then he got picked up and sent to the one just down the road, but…"

"You need to find out what kids are in that Blip Centre."

"Exactly," I braced myself, "And we _know _that Keame has people on the inside, so…um…I'm going to see Thera and Vi."

"Thera and Vi," he said, in a strangely calm tone.

"Yes," I said. I knew that tone, and it wasn't a good sign, "It's the most logical thing to do-"

"No, Laura," he said, "I reckon that the most _logical_ thing to do is for you to come back home so's we can talk this over! We're agreed that we weren't going to be talkin' to them anymore!"

"That was before I learned about Alvin-"

"An' that ain't the point, Laura!"

"Isn't it? Then what _is_?"

"We're meant to be a _team!_ We're meant to _discuss_ things! Instead you're rushing off at the drop of a damn hat to beg for help from the woman who stood there and insulted me- us!"

"_Ah_. Is this what this is _really_ about? Your wounded pride? I was there, Clint - I know what she said!"

"So why are you crawling back there?"

"I'm _not_ crawling! I'm _asking_ for help, because there is a missing child who _might_ be in the hands of some very bad people who we _know_ are happy to torture and kill people! If you have a better plan, one that _doesn't_ involve them, then I'd love to hear it!"

There was a long, dangerous silence, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I waited for the inevitable retort.

"Fine," he said eventually, "I can see I ain't gonna stop you from goin' to see them, and you know I ain't the kind of guy who'd stand by if a kid's in danger. Is there...anything I can do to help?"

"Put the kids to bed?" I said, and allowed myself a relieved smile, "And if you get a chance, can you look up 'Gordon Bennett'? He's Maisie's dad."

"Gordon Bennett? Got it. I'll text you anything I find out."

"Thanks, hon. I mean it."

"Don't thank me just yet," he said, and added ominously, "When you get home, we're gonna have a talk about this."

"I, um…" my smile froze, "I understand, hon. I'm sor-"

The car beeped harshly, and when I glanced at the dashboard I saw that Clint had hung up.

"Well, that went about as well as could be expected," I muttered to myself.

"_You should have told him the truth," _said my inner voice.

"I _did_ tell him the truth!"

"_I mean the _other_ truth."_

"I...I will," I said, and looked on grimly as the hulking form of the warehouse came into view on the horizon, "Later."

* * *

I had been half-hoping, half-expecting that the warehouse would light up at my approach, or give me some sign of life, but there was nothing. The building stood in the shadows, dark and desolate, and I felt a distinct chill settle into my bones as I nosed the car as close as I could to the small side entrance.

"Well, so far, so good," I muttered, as I killed the engine, "She hasn't blown my head off yet."

"_Maybe she's savouring the moment."_

"Quiet, you," I said, but even I could hear the tremolo in my voice. With an effort, I forced the anxiety deep down and reached for the glove compartment to dig out the flashlight. Not only was it pitch black outside, but if I was going in there then I wanted to make it very clear to Vi who I was and _where_ I was. She probably already had me in her sights, and I had absolutely no intention of giving her a reason to think that I was someone dangerous.

The flashlight came to life with a 'click', momentarily blinding me with its brilliance. Blinking the spots away from my eyes, I slowly, carefully opened the door and stepped out onto the parking lot. It was a perfect Missouri night, warm and still, and I could hear the chirp of crickets in the nearby fields. There was no moon, but the Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon, lighting up the sky with thousands of gently glimmering stars. In a previous life, this would have been an evening perfect for cider on the porch with Clint, watching peacefully as fireflies danced through the darkened fields…

"_...but instead you're here alone, hunting a trained killer in an empty warehouse with only a flashlight to defend yourself," _my inner voice finished the thought, rather unhelpfully, _"How times change."_

"There'll be other evenings," I said firmly, and picked out the side door with my flashlight, "You know this can't wait."

The slim white door swung inwards silently at my touch, revealing the gloomy warehouse beyond. While the starlight shining through the unfinished roof provided _some_ illumination, all it really did was create a shimmering, shifting mass of shadows on the floor and walls. I looked up at the darkened gantries, far overhead, and my mind went to thoughts of bats and larger, darker creatures, waiting for their prey. The hairs on the back of my neck immediately stood up on end.

"Viola?" I called out quietly. My voice seemed to be swallowed up in the vast gloom, and so I coughed and tried again, louder this time, "Vi? It's me. It's Laura. I...need your help."

Slowly, with large, obvious movements, I stepped into the warehouse and closed the door behind me. The click echoed loudly and I jumped, dropping my flashlight in the process.

"Damnit, Laura!" I muttered, as I stooped to pick it up again, "Get it together!"

I slowly crept across the warehouse, shining my flashlight this way and that, looking for any signs of movement. The atmosphere felt strangely tense despite the stillness, and I could feel my anxiety rising with every creak and groan of the dilapidated building. Were they even still here? Maybe she'd moved Thera to another location after we'd dropped him off. It would definitely make sense; considering how we ended things, she might've been worried we'd go running to Strange out of spite...

No. None of that rang true to me. Viola clearly held the Avengers in contempt, and I was pretty sure that she had enough bravado, earned or otherwise, to convince herself that she could take Doctor Strange head-on if he came looking. Besides, I was becoming increasingly sure that I was being watched. The prickling on the back of my neck was only getting worse, and I could almost _feel_ the red, glinting eyes watching me from the shadows. Oh, sure, they weren't there when I swung the flashlight around, but all that meant was that they were fast. Fast, and hungry, and-

"Stop it!" I muttered to myself, "You're not a damn kid anymore! Get a grip an-holy _shit_!"

I jerked and leapt backwards as my light illuminated a trio of bright white figures that were _far_ too close to comfort. They stayed perfectly still under the beam, and as I tried to get my beating heart under control I realised somewhat belatedly that they were a small group of store mannequins, standing in a rough triangle a meter or so apart.

"Goodness, Vi," I said, and laughed with relief. If nothing else, I needed to stop jumping at shadows, "Where do you _find_ this stuff…?"

As I walked towards them, it struck me that they were posed in a strangely aggressive manner. One was bent forwards with its arms outstretched, as if it was reaching out to grab someone, while the other two had their arms up and appeared to be sighting down imaginary guns. Frowning, I took another step closer, but my foot caught something on the ground and sent it skittering into the shadows.

"What the-" I quickly shone the light at the noise and spotted a disembodied mannequin's hand. Slightly further away was a large collection of damaged body parts, lying in a pile of white dust and larger shards of shattered plastic. Some were cracked or even smashed to pieces, but others had been snapped clean in two. I knelt down, picked up one half of a damaged arm and looked carefully at the shiny, exposed plastic on the damaged end. Clearly, Vi had been using these as training dummies, but unless she'd been ripping off limbs and snapping them over her knee then I couldn't see how she'd managed to do _this_.

"How odd…" I muttered to myself, and carefully put the damaged parts back where I found them.

"What's odd?" a puzzled voice came from directly behind me, and I screamed and fell forward into the pile of limbs. My world became a tangled mess of dust and shards as I scrabbled for purchase amongst the rolling body parts, and then my hand found a particularly sturdy piece that made my panic-addled mind immediately think 'club!'. I rolled away, clutching it tightly to my chest, and as I staggered to my feet I felt questing fingertips brush against my top.

"Laura-"

"Stay back!" I shrieked, and swung my makeshift weapon blindly. It was struck from my hands with a bone-jolting parry which numbed my arms up to the elbow, and then in a single smooth motion my assailant got a firm grip and swept my legs out from under me. I landed surprisingly gently on my back, and a moment later my attacker had me pinned firmly to the floor.

"Seriously, _Laura!_" said the voice again, as I struggled futilely against the iron grip, "It's me! It's Vi! Stop _wriggling_!"

I paused, "V-Vi?"

"Yes! Look, if I let go do you promise not to try and brain me again? What were you _thinking?_"

"What do you mean, what was I thinking?" I snapped back, "What are you doing setting up creepy mannequins and skulking around in the dark?"

"I live here!" she pointed out, "And I was 'skulking around in the dark' because I'd just turned everything off to go to sleep!"

"And the mannequins?"

"...that's really none of your business," she said shortly, and released the pressure, "And what are _you_ doing charging in here in the middle of the night, anyway?"

"I…" I slowly got to my feet and looked for my flashlight. It had rolled a short distance away, and was resting against a caved-in head, "I need your help."

"_Do_ you, now? How very interesting," Vi said, in a chilly tone, "What was it you said again? Oh yes, 'I have a family! We have our own problems!'."

"How very grown up of you," I retorted, "Do you really think I'd be here if it wasn't important?"

"No, because it wasn't important you'd be able to handle it yourself."

"You-" I felt a stab of anger, but kept it under control, "You're totally unbelievable, do you realise that? I-"

Quite suddenly Vi was standing in front of me, and when she spoke her voice was a deadly, icy hiss, "_I'm_ the unbelievable one, am I? You come barging in here in the dead of night with absolutely no warning, start prodding around my stuff, and then expect me to just suddenly leap into action because you 'need my help'-"

"Well-"

"-because when I asked you which sap you were going to pawn your problems off on after Thera, I thought it was _pretty_ clear that I wasn't volunteering myself!"

"I'm not trying to pawn them off on you!" I protested, "I want to help, I just-"

"_Now_ you want to help?" Vi said scornfully, "It's a bit late for a Damascene conversion, don't you think?"

"Yes! I mean no!" I shook my head, "Look, Vi; you were right. You were a total ass about it, but you were right. I _have_ been letting other people do all the work, and I _did_ shut myself away and try to pretend that it would sort itself out. The truth is I was scared to try, and I thought that if I _didn't_ try I couldn't fail. I was wrong."

There was a long pause, and then she laughed bitterly.

"That's great, sweetie. Really, full marks for the speech, and I'm happy that you've decided to poke your head above the parapet," she said, "But I don't care anymore. I'm...I'm done."

"C'mon, Vi. I don't believe that!"

"Really? Based on _what? _We've shared one cup of coffee and an argument, and suddenly you think you what makes me tick?"

"Well, no, but-"

"I _tried_, Laura, I really did!" she cried, and I could hear the pain in her voice, "All I wanted was for someone to step up, even for five minutes, just so I could take some time to understand what was going on with Thera! Was anyone willing to help? Of course not! They all had their _own_ problems, just like you!"

I grimaced but stayed silent. Clearly she needed to get this off her chest.

"Of course, when _they_ needed help they couldn't beat a path to our door fast enough, and Thera…well," her tone became distinctly wistful, "You know Thera. He's never been able to turn away anyone who's needed help."

"I know," I said, "And I know I took advantage of him when I asked him to talk to Coop. I'm sorry - I wasn't thinking-"

"It wasn't your fault, Laura," she sat down heavily on the floor, as if all the energy had suddenly drained out of her, "And honestly, I love him for it, but…"

"He doesn't know when to stop?"

"I thought he did," she said dully, "But then, I thought I'd learned to control my temper. I guess neither of us have come as far as I'd hoped."

I thought hard about what to do next. If I was being honest with myself, I was still pretty angry at her for what she'd said about Clint. She _had_ acted like a complete bitch, and it felt kind of unfair that I was now having to console her. Why should I? If she didn't want to help, I was just wasting my time! I could just turn on my heel, walk away, and probably even pick up some brownie points back home for basically telling her where to stick it.

But I couldn't. I _knew_ I couldn't. Maybe it made me a doormat, but the thought of leaving her here in the dark, alone, left a very bad taste in my mouth. Clint might have a thing or two to say about this, but I knew that but right here and right now she needed _someone_, just like Maisie, Bulgakov, and even me had needed people before her.

"You're not being fair to yourself, Vi," I said, and sat down beside her, "Do you remember what you told me when we had that coffee?"

She smiled wanly, "Something about being turned into hot dog seasoning, right?"

"Well, yes, but you also told me to go easy on myself," I said, "And that being dead for five years isn't something that you can just walk off.."

"Not you, maybe," she snorted, "But _I'm_ meant to be able to. I was trainedto hit the ground running no matter what-"

"And you're _allowed _to trip sometimes, Vi," I said soothingly, "You're only human, right?"  
"I suppose."

"You _do_ suppose," I said, echoing her words, "And you _haven't_ screwed up, Vi. You and Thera have done loads. You turned that mess of a Blip Centre into something halfway functional, Thera saved Bulgakov, and…"

"And?" she looked up at me, and I was surprised to see tears shining in her eyes.

"Thanks to you guys I got to do things with Clint that I've never done before. In some ways, I feel like I've lived more in the past month than I did in the past _decade!_ 'Cause of that, I was almost able to forget that Thanos killed me...until I was ready to admit it. You and Thera may have saved my marriage, and I'm pretty sure you saved my mind. I don't know how to thank you for that."

"All part of the service," she smiled wearily, "Laura, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I...was never angry at you. Or Clint. You both did me a huge favour by bringing my idiot fiancee back home,and I'm really grateful for that. I know that I acted like some godsdamned spoilt bitch, but..."

"Now you're sounding like Clint."

"He's right though. I was out of control, and there's no excuse for what I said."

"So why _did _you say it?"

"I wasn't the only one telling people things they didn't want to hear. Look-" she shook her head, "You were right. I failed Thera. I mean, _gods_, I turn my back for one second and some maniac cuts out someone's _eyes_? He gets _really_ squeamish about eyes!"

"Yeah...I got that," for a moment, I considered telling her about the visit from Doctor Strange... but decided against it. She looked like she'd had enough for one day.

"All I was thinking was 'I should have been there', 'I could have stopped this'. The guilt just kept building and building..." she went on, "When you turned up with him all that guilt turned to anger and it was just like fireworks going off in my head. I mean, I don't even really remember what I said; all I knew was that all that anger had to get out and you were the easiest target-" she held up a hand, "-and yeah, I know it's terrible. _I_ was terrible, and I'm sorry for everything I said."

"Even about Clint?"

"_Especially_ about Clint," she said, firmly, "I know that I've taken the piss out of him, but the guy goes to war in a leather jerkin alongside gods and people wearing next-generation battlesuits. He's got more guts than me, that's for sure. He's probably a better shot, too."

"Probably?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine! Twist my arm, why don't you," Viola grinned, and nudged a piece of plastic with her finger, "Can you tell him I'm sorry?"

"You can tell him yourself. You owe him that much."

"You're right; I do," she said, and yawned, "Gods…anyway, so what _is_ this problem that's gotten you so het up?"

"Oh? I thought you were done."

"Don't push your luck, sweetie."

"Okay, okay! So, my daughter had this friend before the Blip…" I quickly filled her in on the events surrounding Lila and Maisie, before moving on to the threatening phone calls being made to her father and his subsequent night time excursions. Vi listened intently, her expression steadily becoming more concerned, and as soon as I finished with a somewhat lame '...then I came here!' she got immediately to her feet.

"So let me get this straight; you think there's a missing kid who's probably in the sights of the same people who tried to top Bulgakov?" she gave me a sharp look, "_Goddess_, Laura; why didn't you lead with that?"

"You didn't want to listen!"

Viola stopped for a second, and her lips quirked, "Fair point. Grab your flashlight; we're going to the office."

* * *

I followed Vi up the stairs to the little foreman's office where Thera had held our sessions. In the darkness the stairs seemed rather more dangerous than they had during the day, and I clutched tightly at the railing with one hand while pointing the flashlight directly at my feet. Vi, meanwhile, positively _bounded_ up the stairs before vanishing into the office. A moment later there was a clatter, a _'click'_ and then bright white light shone through the office windows, dispelling the shadows and throwing the stairs into clear relief.

"Thanks!" I hurried up after her, but stopped at the doorway. The office had been changed around once _again, _and whatever purpose it now served it clearly wasn't therapeutic in nature. The sofa had been pushed right over to the far wall, alongside Thera's comfortable-looking chair, and the old wooden table had returned. It was absolutely covered with a mixture of reports, photos, and newspaper articles neatly organised into stacks and marked with coloured post-it notes. Some of them seem to have graduated to the walls, where yet more images and dramatic headlines were pinned in neatly ordered columns and rows. Even to my untrained eye I could tell there was a system in place with both the colour and number of pins used to hold a document in place, but both the method and the intention eluded me.

"Will you walk into my parlour?" asked Vi, with a mocking little smile, "It's the prettiest parlour that ever you did spy."

"You mean the craziest, right?" I said, "What _are_ you doing in here?"

"Well, I've always wanted to have a room where I get to pin loads of things to a wall and then tie them together with string. After I die I kinda want someone to find it all webbed together leading to this sticky note that says 'What does it all mean?!'" she smiled slyly, "It won't mean anything."

"You really enjoy messing with people, don't you," I said, rather sourly.

"It passes the time," she shrugged, and began carefully leafing through one of her stacks, "Now I _know_ I have a list of names around here somewhere. What was that kid called again?"

"Alvin," I said, "A-L-V-I-N. You know, like the chipmunk?"

"Um, okay," Vi gave me a faintly puzzled look but returned to her search, "It doesn't ring a bell, but…"

"Anyway, you didn't answer my question," I said, and gestured at the array of hanging documents, "What's this all about?"

"Oh, it's about Keame," she said absently, and gestured at a picture of the man, sitting in pride of place on the near wall, "What's that saying... 'Know your enemy'?"

I went to get a closer look. It was a pretty flattering photo, and without his glasses I had to admit that he was actually a good looking guy. While he had seemed cool, even chilly on that talk show here he was more relaxed and open. His features were still sharp, but they were softened by a large, expressive smile that radiated warmth, and I found myself smiling back before I caught myself.

"He doesn't really look the part, does he?" I said, "Seems hard to believe that he'd be part of a blackmail and murder plot."

"I'd say not to judge a book by its cover, but you're half right," said Vi, "Before the Blip, he was apparently a 'visionary CEO'. Thanks to him, Keame Refineries' won 'Missouri Employer of the Year' three times on the trot, and he himself won awards for charitable work through the Wilfred Keame Foundation."

She pointed to an article near the door showing Keame and a man in a suit shaking hands and smiling at the camera. He was holding a small golden statue that was glowing brightly in the flash, and as she'd said the caption _did _describe him as a 'Visionary CEO'.

"He changed after the Blip, though," she said, "Two weeks after we all...came back, he walked into the boardroom and sacked everyone present - took complete control."

"He could _do_ that?"

"Nobody seems to have stopped him," Vi shrugged, "Anyway, he's done a number of things that are really out of character for him. He used to be a strong critic of arms dealers, but now he's investing heavily in Hammer Industries-"

"-I saw that-"

"-and he's also completely taken over the Wilfred Keame Foundation, named it after his son, and has stopped all its projects excepting the ones related to reuniting the 'Lost'-" she rolled her eyes, "-with their loved ones. I've heard that he's considering even running for office as the 'Voice of the Lost'."

"Yeah, Thera was saying something similar," I agreed, "But what changed him?"

"Well…" Vi tapped her finger to her lips, "He might be struggling to come to terms with the fact he died, or this brave new post-Blip world might be scary for him, _or-_" she snapped her fingers, "-bear with me here, but it just _might_ have something to do with the fact that his only son was fricassed in his bathroom by an ideological crusader with a katana fixation. We don't know anyone who'd do such a terrible thing, do we?"

"I-we-" I sputtered, "Simon was a monster! He _needed_ to-"

"Be held accountable for his crimes? Sure; he was a violent, sociopathic hedonist who had the Keame family fortune at his fingertips, and I have a whole stack of photos here that you_ really_ don't want to see-"

"-exactly-"

"-but that doesn't mean his dad didn't _love _him, Laura," she said, almost gently, "When I told you that I disagreed with Ronin's method, approach, and technique, this is _why_. It's very tempting to say 'Oh, they're terrible people. Who could love _them_?' but the truth is almost _everyone_ is loved by someone. Simon needed to be exposed and stopped, but he didn't need to be martyred."

"I disagree," I said, "Some people just need to be taken out."

"Oh yeah?" she said, "'So it'd be just if someone else decided that Clint needed to be 'taken out', then? You'd be okay with _him_ being gunned down on the bog?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why should Keame be okay with someone turning his only son into a 'build-a-human' kit?"

"I…" I paused, "I suppose when you put it like that, it's kind of hard to argue."

"Yeah," she must have caught my expression, because she added, "Look, I'm not trying to pass judgement on Clint. I mean, I can't even _imagine_ what it must have been like for him to lose his family like that, but there _will_ be consequences for his actions. He was hurt, so he hurt people, and those people will hurt other people. Fact of life..."

She trailed off, as if she thought she had given away too much, and returned to rifling through her stacks of paper with renewed energy.

"Ah!" she said, and produced a sheaf of paper, "I knew it was around here somewhere. Alvin, was it?"

"Yeah!" I said excitedly, "Is he on there?"

"Cool your jets, hotshot. I have Aaron, an Aileen...even an Amethyst. Actually, I remember her; she's a good kid. Likes to colour," she gave me a curious look, "Is that _really _a name, though? Must be popular amongst geologists...but no. No Alvin."

"Damn," I felt a surge of disappointment, "So he's not in the Blip Centres?"

"I didn't say that," she said, "He's just not in _my_ Blip Centre. There are at least another thirty in Missouri, but if he got Snapped downstate like you said then that'll narrow my search quite a lot. I'll... make some discreet calls."

"Are you sure?" I said, "Thank you, Vi. Seriously; you're a lifesaver."

"You don't know the half of it," she said, and pinned me with a stare, "I _will_ find him, Laura. Even if I have to tear every Blip Centre down to their shoddy foundations, I'll find him. I promise you that."

"I believe you," I said, and exhaled heavily, "That's such a load off my- whoa!"

My phone buzzed noisily in my pocket, sending tingles running up and down my leg.

"What was that?" Vi asked sharply.

"Oh...just my phone," I said, and pulled it out to show her, "I asked Clint to look up Maisie's dad."

"Oh, good idea!" she said approvingly, "What did he say?"

"Hold on, hold on-" I said, and squinted at the screen, "Let's see…'

_Gordon Bennett partner in Bennett-Allerton Consultants…. _

_Specialists in high security architecture… _

_Cool fact; have worked w/X-CON (Lang's outfit) in past..._

_Previous clients include HELIX INTERNATIONAL!_

_P.S. Put Nate to bed. Lila doing homework. Coop just shouted 'take that you noob!' upstairs. Will talk to Fury re: Blip Centre._

"That's a _lot _of exclamation marks," Vi said, looking over my shoulder, "Helix International again? Somehow I don't think that's a coincidence."

"You know that Keame wants to buy Helix International as well, right?" I said, "He announced it this morning."

"I missed that," she admitted, "...but clearly there's something there that he wants."

"#273."

There was a pause, "Come again?"

"It's #273," I repeated, "We found a set of instructions on Caleb's phone. They were demanding that Sophia give up #273 or its location, or they'd kill her husband."

"Did she crack?"

"She said she told them everything she could," I paused. Vi suddenly seemed _strangely_ intent, "Hey, Vi...what do you think it is?"

"...I'm not sure," she said, "They do bio stuff, right? Maybe some new kind of treatment?"

"Well, Sophia wouldn't tell us what it was either," I said, "In fact, she hung up as soon as Clint told her who he was!"

"I'm not surprised," she muttered, and added quickly, "I mean... being called out of the blue by a bloody Avenger has to be pretty intimidating, y'know! Not that it's, um, Clint."

"You're a terrible liar, Vi," I said, and gave her a long look, "We told her that Thera managed to stablise her, but we didn't realise _what _that meant at the time. Apparently he's made a full recovery."

"What did you expect?" she said, and I could see the evasiveness in her expression, "Thera's an expert."

"Yeah, but these aren't the kind of injuries that you make a full recovery from!" I said, "I haven't seen the photos myself, but...his eyes? I don't think they're the kind of thing you can grow back. Doctor Strange saw them, and-"

"Doctor Strange saw the photos?" she said, and her eyes narrowed, "You've been holding out on me, Laura."

"I'm sorry! He came to my house!" I said, "What was I meant to do; turn away the 'Master of the Mystic Arts'? I quite like being not a frog!"

"This again? He _can't_ turn you into a frog, Laura! Not without blowing himself and everyone in a ten mile radius into itty bitty pieces," she sighed, "It's simple conservation of energy!"

"That's not reassuring."

"Great. Now you know how _I_ feel!" she said, "So why'd he come a-knocking?"

"Well…" I quickly filled her in on what we'd talked about with Doctor Strange, "...but I didn't tell him that Thera was unconscious or where you lived. I didn't want to bring him down on you like that."

"That's something, I suppose," she said with some relief, "Thank you, Laura."

"Fair's fair. I mean, you've kept _our_ secrets," I said plainly, "And besides...look, Thera's not normal. He simply _isn't_. Maybe you aren't either, but I don't care."

She looked a little surprised, "You don't?"

"No. My mum had a lot of issues, but she had one saying I agree with, 'It doesn't matter who you are. It's what you do.' _Maybe_ you and Thera could blow the planet to smithereens, but you haven't. You've kept your heads down and just tried to do the best you could with what you had! Sure, maybe you're a bit dysfunctional, but who isn't? I thought_ I_ was normal and it turns out I've got a _tonne_ of issues. So...no, I don't care, and I'm not gonna tell anyone. I-"

Without a word Vi suddenly stepped forward and caught me in an impulsive, bone-grinding hug. I could feel her shaking with repressed emotion as she clutched at my shoulders, and for a moment I genuinely thought she was going to squeeze the life out of me.

"Vi…" I gasped, and tapped urgently on her shoulder, "Can't...breathe…"

"Oh? Oh!" she said, and leapt backwards, "Goddess, I'm so sorry! I just-"

"It's okay," I said, and tried to catch my breath, "I just...I just didn't take you for being a hugger!"

"I...um..." she looked away, and I could feel the barriers going back up, "Sorry. That was inappropriate."

"What, the hug or the bit where you almost crushed my ribcage?"

"Hah," she said, with a small smile, "You may have noticed that I don't _always _think before I act. Once Thera and I were shopping for groceries and he asked me if we needed red or white onions. My response? I grabbed his arm, stared deep into his eyes and told him that I loved him."

"What's wrong with that?" I said, "I think it's kinda sweet."

"Well...it was the first time I told _anyone_ that I was in love with them!" she said, "I'd been psyching myself up for it for weeks, and it just reached the point where I _had_ to say it or I'd explode. I... _may_ have come across a bit intense."

"Still not seeing anything wrong here. Some guys are into that!"

"Oh, Thera's used to it, but an old lady nearby thought I was trying to mug him," she said, "One second I'm angling for some grand romantic moment and maybe a good snog, and the next I'm being pelted with grapefruit and wailed on by a four foot ten whirlwind!" she scratched ruefully at her head, "Whatever was in that handbag, it was _heavy_."

"It worked in the end though, didn't it?"

"Thera was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe!" she complained, but her smile lit up the room, "But yeah, it was totally worth it - well, after I'd cleaned all the juice out of my hair."

Once again, I was once again forced to reevaluate this strangely mercurial woman. Sure she had a prickly side, a razor sharp tongue, and was a total gadfly, but when her guard was down she was also very sweet and doggedly loyal. Nobody could fake the love in that warm, genuine smile, either, and with a jolt of nostalgia I realised it was the same smile that my Mom had whenever Dad came through the door. It had vanished when he died.

"Well, anyway...I should probably go have it out with Clint," I said, shaking myself out of my reverie, "He wasn't happy that I came back here."

"I get that," she said, "If it'll help, you can tell him from me that I'm happy for him to shoot apples off my head or...I dunno. What do _you _do when you want to apologise to him?"

"Um…" I paused, and her eyebrows went up.

"Oh really? You're more manipulative than you look, Laura Barton," she said, "But no, I'm _not_ willing to do that."

"Good!" I said, "But actually, there _is_ something else."

"What?"

"Clint was...well, after we went to that Blip Centre, he was feeling pretty bad. He...he-"

"Didn't stop to think about the ramifications of rematerialising a bunch of dead people because he was totally fixated on getting his family back?" she said, without so much as a pause for breath. I nodded, silently.

"So you'd like something to help him be sure he did the right thing? Or..._more_ sure?" she thought about this for a moment, "Yeah, that I can do. Just leave it with me."

"Are you sure? I'm leaving a _lot_ with you."

"Well, what are friends for, hey?" she said, "And you _are_ my friend, Laura. Whatever happens, I'm glad I met you."

"Thanks, Vi," I said, "Anyway, I should be-"

"Would you like to see Thera before you go?" she said quickly, "I mean, he's not as talkative as he normally is..."

She fell silent, but I could see the pleading look in her eyes. How many people had she had a chance to talk to this week? Living in an isolated warehouse, taking care of an unresponsive fiance...it must have been a desperately lonely experience. No wonder she'd taken to setting up mannequin assault courses.

"Sure," I said, "I can keep you company for a bit. Clint said he had to make some calls, anyway."

"Great!" she relaxed visibly, "I've set him up down in the coffee room. Just follow me!"

* * *

Vi led me back down the stairs and across the warehouse floor. With the light shining from the office, I could see that her activities hadn't _just_ been limited to beating up defenceless mannequins. On the mats a heavy bag lay battered and defeated on its side, trailing a length of chain. A similar length swung disconsolately from a nearby stand, and I wondered briefly just _how_ hard she'd hit it to cause that kind of damage.

More curious, though, was the log. It stood alone off to the side in a carefully cleared area, and was propped up with a pair of weighted-down aerobic benches. Up and down its length was a series of deep cuts, too thin to be caused by an axe or a saw, but also too long to be a knife. I stared at them for a moment, and looked over at the pile of smoothly sliced up mannequin limbs I'd seen earlier.

"Hey Vi," I asked, "What's with the log?"

"Training," she said, with a shrug, "I know guns are _really_ easy to get ahold of here, but I didn't want to get rusty."

"Training with_ what?_" I said, and gave the cuts another long look. Had she found a lightsaber back there?

"Whatever's available. Sometimes you need to improvise in a fight," she said briskly, and then stopped as she reached out for the coffee room door, "Sorry. It needs to be cold in here. For his sake."

She wasn't joking. The instant she opened the door, a chilly wave hit me in the face like a fresh arctic breeze, and I half expected my breath to crystallise in the air as we stepped inside.

"Should've remembered my coat," I muttered, and she gave me an apologetic look in response.

Like the office, the coffee room had undergone a substantial transformation. In fact, it almost put me in mind of a massage parlour. The benches had all been pushed to one side, and had been replaced with a large, comfortable mattress dressed in a white sheet. A ring of electric candles provided a warm, diffuse glow, and the gentle sounds of the ocean sloshed and burbled from a couple of speakers. If it weren't for the chill air and whine of an overtaxed air compressor, it would almost have been cosy.

Thera lay on his side on the mattress, as unmoving as he had been almost a week ago. In the light of the candles I could see that his expression was still and peaceful, and his breathing was slow, steady, and calm. While he'd been stripped to the waist, for some reason he was still wearing his hat. Was that damn thing glued on?

Vi went immediately to kneel down by his side.

"Hey Sparky," she said, gently taking his hand, "I've brought Laura to see you. She's asked for our help finding her daughter's friend's adoptive father's kid, and I thought you might be up for that."

"Can he hear us?" I asked.

"It helps me to believe he can," she said, and sat back on her heels, "I've had a _lot _of one-sided conversations over the past couple of days."

"I'm sorry," I said, "This must be really tough for you."

"I've dealt with worse," she said. While her tone was casual enough, her strained expression told a different story, "I love him, Laura, and I love what we do. At the end of the day, I'm able to go to sleep knowing that I've really helped people! It's just...sometimes I get frustrated. Is it too much to just want some time where we can be a normal couple doing normal couple things? I want to get up, brush my teeth, go to work, maybe sell a piece or two, come home, have dinner, crack open a nice bottle of red and fall asleep together in front of the radio! You know, _without_ some twit paging us at three in the morning because some _other_ twit decided to see how far up his arse he could shove some high voltage cabling!"

"Ouch. Wait, did that actually _happen_?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure what possessed him, really," she said, absently, "Forget Thanos; I swear our greatest enemy is just good old fashioned human stupidity."

I laughed, and for just a moment a hint of a smile shone through her cloudy expression.

"And...I dunno. Sometimes I get a bit scared that he just sees me like...some kind of long-term patient. I know he's a fixer, so...what he only wants to be with me because he's trying to fix me? Will he still love me if I'm 'fixed'? It's stupid and insecure, I know, but…"

"Don't worry. I've been there too," I said, "I remember the first time Clint introduced me to Nat. Christ; she was _gorgeous_! Worse, she was this slinky superspy who could speak a dozen languages while kicking your ass and hacking military grade hardware all at the same time. I was...well, _Laura_. How could I possibly compare to _her_?"

"You did, though. Don't be so down on yourself!"

"Yeah, I know, but it took me a long time to accept that I wasn't just some kind of backup option while he waited for her to fall for him."

"How'd you get over it?"

"Well...it got a bit easier when I realised that Clint _also_ gets insecure sometimes, y'know, about the rest of the Avengers. He's a great shot, probably the _best_, but he's always kind of felt that in a group with Thor, Rogers, and Stark, he's just-"

"A second stringer?"

"-I was going to say 'Man With Bow," I said tartly, "My point is that it happens to _everyone_, Vi. As long as you don't do anything stupid, you'll be fine."

"Yeah, you're right, and I _know_ I'm being an idiot," she said, "Thanks. But...I've got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"I've gotta admit, I'm curious to find out how one of S.H.I.E.L.D's top agents got together with a...a…"

"Pancake house waitress?" I supplied helpfully, "Don't look at me like that! I was Employee of the Month four times in one year!"

"Waitress? _Really_?" she said, "I was going to say 'S.H.I.E.L.D intern', 'cause that's what's written in your file. Now I'm _doubly_ curiou-"

Suddenly, Thera's eyes snapped open, and as I jerked back in surprise he shot bolt upright in bed and stared at us with wild, uncomprehending eyes. He was silent, eerily so, but as our gazes locked I could see the shock etched across his face.

"Sp...Sparky?" Vi said disbelievingly, and then she threw her arms around his neck, "Oh, Sparky! You're back!"

"W…." Thera croaked, as she dissolved into tears, "Wat...er…"

I looked around quickly, and saw a small plastic cup filled with water sitting on a nearby bench. Clearly, Vi had prepared for this, and he looked at me gratefully as I fetched it down and handed it to him. His hand shook as he lifted it to his lips and downed it in a single gulp, and then he tossed the cup to one side and silently embraced his fiancee.

Eventually, Vi sat back. While she was still holding his hand and her expression was gentle, there was real steel in her gaze. However glad she might have been that he had woken up, her anger had clearly not gone away.

"How're you feeling?" she said. For a moment he looked confused, as if he hadn't fully understood the question.

"Tired," when he finally talked, his voice was slow and monotonous, "Very tired. Where are we?"

"At the warehouse," she said, "Laura brought you here after you passed out."

"I...remember that," he said, "I think. You were shouting?"

"Ah...yeah," she gave me a bashful look, "You heard that?"

"I heard a lot of things. Didn't understand them," he said, with an effort, "Just you. I heard you a lot. Telling me you loved me."

"I do," she said, and gave his hand a tight squeeze, "So much, Sparky."

"I...love you too," he paused for a moment, as if he was manually assembling a sentence in his head, "We're not home yet, then?"

"Nope. Still in Missouri."

"...bugger," he looked around, "You...did this?"

"I wanted you to be comfortable," she said, "And cold. After what happened last time, I wasn't taking any chances."

"Thank you," he said, "And...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I tried to fix everything myself. I'm sorry I burned out. I went...a bit crazy."

"A _bit-_" Viola bit down hard on her retort. When she continued, her voice was kind but firm, "No, we can talk about that later. When you're better."

"I know. I know...why I did that," he gritted his teeth, but I could see he was wavering, "I...saw you Snap."

Vi recoiled as if she'd been struck, and the steel in her gaze gave way to horror, "No, Sparky. That's...no, you can't have done! Please tell me you _didn't-"_

"I was bringing you lemonade," he said, and took a deep breath, "Saw you working...then...ash. Gone. Saw you die. _Felt_ you die."

"Oh, _Goddess…_I-"

"Don't remember much after that," Thera continued, "Collapsed. Prayed. World came rushing in…then nothing. Woke up with you."

"No," whispered Viola, and took his hand up to her cheek, "No no no. Sparky, I'm so sorry. I had no idea..."

"Not your fault," Thera gave her an exhausted smile, "Neither... did I. You've been...so amazing…"

With a sigh, his eyes closed once again and he relaxed into her arms. For a long time the only sound was the whine of the air conditioner. Viola held Thera tightly as she stared blankly off into space, obviously too shocked for words, while I sat there and wondered what in the world I was meant to do or say in a moment like _this_. Part of me wavered backwards and forwards over attempting to console the distraught bodyguard, but another part was thinking hard about what Thera had said. For some reason, it didn't quite seem to fit with what I'd heard before.

In the end, I tabled those thoughts, and instead reached out to pat Vi gently on the hand. She looked over with some surprise, and I gave her a weak smile.

"Are you okay?" I said, and kicked myself internally, "_Obviously_ you aren't. I mean...that was a lot to take in. Do you want me to-"

"No," she said, hoarsely, "Please stay. Just for a little longer."

"Sure," I said, and looked uncertainly at her fiance, "He hasn't slipped back into a coma, has he?"

"No, he's sleeping properly now," she said, and carefully laid Thera back down on the mattress, "I should probably go find something for him to eat when he wakes up. 'Should still have some of those cereal bars left. Need more water, too."

"Hold on, Viola," I said, as she went to stand up, "I know busywork when I see it. C'mon, talk to me."

"What's there to say?" she said, and I could hear the quiver in her voice, "Laura, I've spent this past month just getting madder and _madder_ about how he's been acting! If I'd known-"

"It's not your fault," I said quickly, "Not even _he_ knew about it."

"I know, but maybe I could've dug deeper! It's so _obvious!_"

"Only with hindsight," I said, "You did your best, Vi."

"I…" she sighed, "You're right. There's no point kicking myself for it now. I just wish I could've spared him that memory."

"Oh, I know _that_ feeling," I said, "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah…" she looked down for a moment, but when she looked up I was surprised to see a new fire in her eyes, "But it's not gonna break me, and I _know_ it isn't going to break Sparky either. We're here, we're _alive_, and we're-" she smiled briefly, "-in good company. In many ways, we're luckier than we have any right to be. I'm _not _going to let a bad memory get in the way of us rebuilding our life together, whether it's in our home or in some bloody warehouse in Missouri!"

She looked skywards, and added loudly, "You hear that, Thanos? You've _lost!_"

"Well...that's good!"

"Yeah," she got to her feet, and extended a hand to help me up, "Okay. I hate to throw you out, but I've got a whole laundry list of things that I need to do, thanks to this damn busybody who burst in here at the dead of night and messed up all my stuff."

"It's fine," I said, "I need to go and have it out with Clint, anyway."

"Be sure to send him my love."

"That's not helpful."

"It might confuse him," she said, "And look; don't worry about Alvin, and _please_ don't go trying to do anything by yourself. If you're right and the Bennetts really _are_ tied up in something suspect, then you should make sure you're well clear.

"But I want to help!" I protested.

"I know you do," she said, "So let's find some way that you _can _help that plays to your strengths, yeah? I don't know, do _you _think that 'being skinned alive and hanged from a bridge as a warning to others' is something you're particularly _good_ at?"

"Not exactly," I said, and shuddered.

"Didn't think so," she said, "As soon as I've made sure there's enough food and water for Sparky, I'm going to go make some calls. I'm sure there's a thread somewhere I can pull on, and when I do we'll see what unravels."

"That sounds dangerous. Are you sure? What if they track you back here?"

"I'll be discreet, Laura," she said, "And I'm used to dealing with the more...unsavoury elements in society. If I find out something positive, I'll be sure to let you know."

"And then what? What do we do?"

"I'm not sure. We'll have to cross _that_ bridge when we come to it," she said, and then a nasty little smile flickered across her face, "What it is, though, I'm sure it'll be _spectacular._"


	16. Chapter 16: Backlash - Part 1

**Chapter 16: Backlash - Part One**

It had to be said that I was in a pretty good mood as I headed home. Sure, it had been a long and tiring day, but I also felt like I'd actually _achieved _something. It was more than that, actually; for the first time since the Blip, I wasn't dancing at the end of Thera's line or reacting blindly to whatever I was feeling. For once I was being proactive, and _I_ was in charge. It felt good, and if I was being honest with myself I could definitely see how Thera could've gotten hooked on this.

The good feeling faded slightly as the farmstead came into view, and I could feel the faintest stirrings of anxiety deep within. Aside from those dark weeks immediately after the Blip, Clint and I rarely fought. When we had, it had either been about the amount of time he'd been away with the Avengers or because one of us was being a petty, stubborn idiot. For some reason this felt _new_, somehow, and I really wasn't sure what to expect.

I crept carefully over the threshold, not wanting to wake the kids, and closed the door behind me with a gentle click. The silence in the house was almost oppressive, and I winced at every rustle and thud as I carefully took off my shoes and hung up my coat. I could see light coming from a crack in the dining room door, and paused just outside to take a deep breath.

"Okay," I murmured to myself, "Here we go."

The door creaked noisily as I pushed it open to see Clint sitting at the table, playing idly with his phone. A pair of empty glasses sat close by, next to our crystal decanter which was half-filled with deep red wine. He looked up as I entered, and I found myself anxiously scanning his face for tell-tale signs of anger or tension. There weren't any, but that wasn't _necessarily_ a good sign.

"Hi," he said, evenly, "You're back."

"I am," I said, with a rather forced smile, "You're using the decanter? Haven't seen that thing since our wedding."

"'Spent too much time hanging around with Stark, I guess," he said, "I mean, I reckon it's probably wasted on this stuff... but I thought I'd give it a go. Thirsty?"

"Yeah, actually," I said down heavily in the seat next to him, "Long day."

"Longer than it should've been, sure," he said, as he poured me a glass. I gave it an experimental sip, then sighed and set it down firmly on the table.

"Okay, I suppose we should have it out before either of us gets too tipsy," I said, "I know you're angry at me for going to see Vi, and-"

"I ain't angry about that," he said, quickly, "At least, not anymore."

"You're _not_? But you said..."

"Oh, I was angry when you _rang_," he said, "I got mad 'cause I thought we were gonna discuss everything, but when I cooled down I realised that I was _actually_ being kinda controlling. This is _your_ thing, and sometimes what I need to do is shut up and let you do your thing the way _you_ want to do it. You know, support you like you've always supported me."

"Aw, hon," I said, and felt a wave of relief pass over me, "Thanks."

"And sure, Vi got right under my skin," he went on, "But like you said we don't know anyone who knows the Blip Centres better than them. You gotta do what you gotta do to get the job done."

"She _really _laid into you, though. Even she admitted that."

"Yeah, but when have you ever known me to hold a grudge?" he smiled crookedly, "Remember that scrap we had at the airfield?"

"You mean the one that got you put under house arrest? For _two years?_" I raised an eyebrow, "Two years where I had to do _all_ the shopping, the school runs, kids clubs, nativity plays, sports days, open evenings...Christ, my life really _did_ revolve around the kids, didn't it?"

"And do I hold a grudge against you for that? No," he chuckled, and ducked out of the way as I swiped at him, "But seriously, hon; I didn't hold anything against Stark, or Nat, or even that Spider-kid. If I can forgive them for actually trying to beat the tar out of me, then I can probably find it in my heart to forgive Vi."

"She'd be happy to hear that; she was really sorry about everything she said. Desperately lonely, too," I added, quietly, "If Thera hadn't recovered I'd probably still be there."

"Oh, he's up?"

"Sorta. She says he is, but who knows with him?" I shrugged, "But there _was_ something…"

"What?"

"Well, maybe it's nothing…" I said, "He said that he saw Vi get Snapped, just before he got Snapped himself. But when we first met him, he said he came under a contract! _And_ Vi said they Blipped right into a cornfield! How does _that_ work? How does _any_ of that work?"

"Who knows?" Clint threw up his hands, "Look, whatever else they are they ain't spies, 'cause if they were their story wouldn't have more holes in it than Swiss cheese. They're here, they're doing...whatever it is they're doing, so we may as well chalk the rest up to divine intervention and move on."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, and added hopefully, "So you're _really_ okay with me going to see them?"

"Why not? You were..._mostly_ okay with me charging off at a moment's notice, so fair's fair," he said, "How'd it go?"

"Okay, I think," I said, "Alvin isn't at their Blip Centre, but she's going to keep looking. She'll ring if she finds anything."

"Great," he said, and poured himself some of the wine, "Is this any good? I ain't got a clue what good wine looks like, so I just grabbed what everyone else seemed to be grabbin'."

"It's strong," I said, and watched as he took a sip and grimaced, "So, y'know, you got that right."

"Lucky me," he paused, "But, uh, there _is_ something else I want to talk to you about."

"Really?" suddenly, the worry was back in full force, "What is it?"

"I...hmm," he took another sip, larger this time, and swilled around in his mouth while he thought about it, "This might sound kinda weird, but I feel...excluded, somehow? You, the kids, hell even Thera and Vi, you _Blipped_. You've all got this crazy experience in common, and I'm not really sure how I'm meant to connect to that. Does that sound weird?"

"No, Clint, no! But I kinda know what you mean. Listening to Maisie talk about how she found our house completely empty? That's nuts. Part of me still thinks I was there, just kind of haunting those hot dogs…" I stopped as his jaw went tight, "I'm sorry. That was crass."

"Yeah, it was."

"But you've got to look at it from my side too, Clint!" I said, "I didn't just sidestep five years of hell; I _died! _If you and I can't crack a joke about that now and then, how're we ever meant to face that fact?"

"I know, but sometimes it's just too much, y'know?" he said, and took another sip of wine, "I dunno. This whole situation is just…"

"Messed up? Yeah, tell me about it," I rubbed his shoulder soothingly, "And I'm _trying_ to learn more, but..."

His arm tensed, "Well that's just it. _Are _you?"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked sharply, "I'm reading those books, looking up stuff online-"

"-but why do that when I'm right here?" he asked, "I _lived_ through it! Every part! When you said 'I need to learn about the Blip' I thought you were gonna talk to me...but then you're reading Bliperature for kids and streamin' videos? Why?"

"I…um..." I floundered.

"Exactly," he stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over, "That's what I mean. When it comes to the Blip...it's me, and then it's all you guys."

"Clint! Wait!" I said, and grabbed his hand before he could stalk off, "I wanted to talk to you about it. I really did, but...I couldn't. I just didn't have the words."

"And you have 'em now?"

"I think so. I've been slowly piecing them together," I stood up and took his other hand, "See, Maisie said something this afternoon which got me thinking. She called Lila 'lucky', and at the time I thought that she'd gone too far. Then later I was reading about all those plane crashes, and I just thought 'God, I'm glad the kids didn't live through this' and I realised she was _right_. Then I remembered how I yelled at you for even _thinking _that. I was _such_ an ass."

Clint remained silent, but his gaze softened ever so slightly.

"I _have_ been thinking about you. I think about you all the time, and when I think about all the shit you've been through these past five years, my heart just..._breaks_," I could feel the tears welling suddenly, "And it hurts even _more_ 'cause I know that you were grieving for me and the kids-"

I choked into silence, and stood there for a moment with a hand over my mouth while I tried to force the tears back down. My husband looked stunned, and then a look of deep chagrin passed over his face.

"Hon, I'm sorry," he said, and stooped to pick up his chair, "I didn't mean that you didn't care. I was just being-"

"No, no, you were right," I said, and sat down with my head in my hands, "I _was_ avoiding you. Your scars, your tattoos, that damn haircut...they all made me so _angry_, and that was before you even opened your mouth. I thought that it had to be something you were _doing _that was setting me off, but…"

"It wasn't?" he said, sitting down beside me.

"No. When I asked Vi why she lashed out at us, she said that when Thera collapsed all she could think was 'I should've been there'. I think I've been thinking that since the Blip, but I just wasn't aware of it. Everything about you was a reminder of the fact that I'd died, and every time I thought about it it just hammered home the fact that I wasn't _there _when you really needed me..." I stopped as realisation dawned, "Oh, my goodness."

"What?" he asked intently.

"It's not anger I've been feeling, Clint, it's _guilt!_"

"Guilt?" he paused, "But...none of this is your fault! You were _dead_."

"Well it wasn't Vi's fault that Thera collapsed or _your_ fault that Thanos Snapped us, but _you _both felt guilty!" I pointed out, "I love you, and I want you to be happy, but somewhere along the line I think I got that snarled up with _making _you happy. When I realised that I couldn't just wave the Blip away for you the guilt and frustration just grew and grew and..."

"You went full Vi?"

"I think it's fairer to say that Vi went full Laura, but yeah. In a way, it was kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I was beating myself up so much over not being there for you when I couldn't, that I _wasn't_ there for you when I _could_-"

"Laura...just stop talkin' for a second," he said, "Firstly, stop beatin' yourself up at _all_. You wanna know the truth? I'm _happy_! I'm happier than I've been in _years_."

"But the Snap..."

"Forget about the Snap, hon!" he said, "Right now, I'm sitting in our house, drinkin' terrible wine with my wife while our kids're sleepin' safely upstairs. I'm on cloud nine, and the only thing you ever have to do is just _be_ here, bein' you."

"You sure?" I smiled weakly, "I think that might be the booze talking."

"The point is, you ain't got nothin' to be guilty for, babe," he said, "And yeah, we'll have to talk about everythin' that happened at _some_ point, but why's that have to be right now? Let's not spend our new life mopin' about the old one, eh?"

"You're right," I said, "When you're ready to talk, I'll be ready."

"Great," he said, and flashed me a roguish, megawatt smile, "Now we gonna finish this bottle or what? I...might have hedged my bets and gotten more than one."

"Is that so?" I said, "Well, we should _definitely_ try that one too. Maybe you got lucky on your second attempt."

"Don't count on it," he said, and raised his glass to mine, "To two screwups, doin' the best they can with what they've got."

"To two screwups," I said, and there was a gentle clink, "Cheers!"

* * *

The rest of the evening passed in an alcohol-soaked haze of merriment. Quite _how _much got consumed was hard to say; the second wine bottle came and went with yet more clinking of glasses, and then some beer magically appeared in its wake. After that, Clint went rooting around and managed to find a suspiciously unmarked bottle in the back of a cupboard. While he wouldn't say exactly _where_ it'd come from, I was reasonably sure that it was either moonshine or rocket fuel, and in the end the effect was basically the same. Eventually, I staggered upstairs and collapsed gracelessly into bed while the world spun gently around my head.

When morning came it was _most_ unwelcome. The harsh, insistent tones of the alarm thundered through the room like a freight train, and as I opened my eyes to find the damn thing and smash it to pieces the bright Missouri sun came blasting down my optic nerves. For a moment I flailed uselessly against the onslaught of sight and sound, until my questing hand found and slapped the snooze button. As I sat up, I realised that the world was _still_ spinning gently, with the added bonus that my right hip was aching like nothing else. Had I slept on it funny?

"Oh, Christ-" I began, and then fought down a sudden wave of nausea, "That was a _bad_ idea..."

There was a pained groan from beside me and Clint poked his head above the covers. He looked like a mess, and was still dressed in yesterday's rumpled, alcohol-stained clothes. Looking down, I realised that I probably wasn't much better.

"We seem to be full of 'em, don't we," he said, with a strained smile, "I _knew_ I shouldn't have broken out the Thormite."

"The _what?_"

"It was this drink that Thor used to brew. Asgardians don't get drunk off've our stuff, y'see, so he made that for our get-togethers. Fun fact; if you set it on fire, it actually _explodes_."

"Are you _serious_? You gave us Asgardian super-booze?"

"Hey, you drank it!" he pointed out, "_Willingly!_ I think you were sayin' something about how in your college days you could've drunk him clean under the table. Then you fell off your chair."

"Um…" a vague memory floated back, "I suppose that explains why my hip hurts."

"Probably," he said, and then a thought appeared to occur to him, "Hold on, ain't it a school day today?"

"I...oh, _no_!" my eyes widened in horror, and I staggered unsteadily to my feet, "How could we have been so _stupid? _Clint, we gotta get ready! You've got to drive Nate to school!"

"Do I have to?" he said wearily, "Can't you?"

"Not without Liv shooting me in the face," I said, "And I'm far too hungover to deal with her damn attitude."

"Oh, damnit," he said, "_Fine_. I'll drop him off if you go make breakfast. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Oh, and we'd better _both_ have showers. I don't know about you, but I don't reckon that turnin' up to breakfast reeking of booze would be settin' a good example to the kids."

As quickly as I could, I went to have a nice cold shower and got changed into a soft dressing gown. A pair of aviator sunglasses kept the light at a barely tolerable level, and while I was sure I looked every inch the stereotypical alcoholic stay-at-home mom, at least I was upright and stable enough to operate the toaster. I wasn't feeling up to eating anything _myself_, but I was damned if I was going to let my children starve.

Thankfully, breakfast was a subdued affair. While Lila and Nate seemed confused by my sunglasses and lack of energy, they at least seemed to understand that I didn't want to be disturbed. Coop, however, was under _no _illusions as to what had happened last night. As he ate, he gave me a look that teetered somewhere between amusement and open enjoyment, and tutted occasionally as he reached across the table for some more toast.

"Do you mind?" I said acidly, after several minutes of gleeful judgement.

"Not as much as your liver," he grinned, "And on a school day, too? For _shame_, Mom."

"This is because I threatened to track you with those satellites, isn't it," I groaned, and propped my head up with my hand, "Fine. Get it out of your system."

"Nah, I'm actually quite impressed," he said, "I'd never have thought you'd be able to keep up with Dad."

"Your Dad don't drink much, Coop. Alcohol's bad for coordination," Clint said, as he entered the room. A shower and a change of clothes had done wonders for him, although he still looked as tired as I felt, "And your Mom got _plenty_ of...trainin' in during her college years."

"College _year_," I corrected him, and gave Coop a sharp look, "Let me be a warning to you."

"You always are, Mom," he said, and quickly gathered up the other kids' plates, "C'mon, Lila. School bus'll be here in a sec."

"You're not the boss of me!" Lila bristled, "Tell him, Mom!"

"Just do as he says, Lila," I said, "_Please?_ For Mommy?"

My daughter pouted, but finally relented and rushed upstairs to get her book bag. Coop returned from the kitchen with two large glasses of water, which he silently set before us before disappearing himself with another grin and a wink.

"We've raised a monster, haven't we," I stated, but gratefully downed the glass of water, "If I'd realised I was going to be this morning's entertainment, I'd have passed on the Thormite."

"Ah, c'mon," said Clint, "How often're you going to get the chance to try alien alcohol?"

"I can't even remember what it tasted of," I said, and then yet another memory surfaced, "It just _burned_. I still have all my teeth, right?"

"Cleaner than ever," he said, "I think he said they used it to clean their guns."

"'Course they did. You feel up to getting Nate to school?"

"I feel better than you look," he said, "I'll be fine. I-"

We both jumped as my phone buzzed loudly on the table, and when I flipped it over I saw a familiar looking local number.

"Who's that?" Clint asked, "Spam?"

"No, I think it's Vi," I blinked, "Hold on. You don't think she's already found something, do you?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "Answer it! I'll see the kids off to school."

"Okay," I said, and gave him a quick kiss, "Bye, hon."

"Bye."

Clint left, taking Nate with him. With a deep breath I pressed the 'accept' button, and from the earpiece there came an immediate barrage of English delivered in Vi's curiously lilting accent.

"Vi," I said, and grimaced, "Vi! Can you slow down, please? I've got a _splitting_ headache."

"_-and so then I...wait, what? You've got a headache? I'm sorry to hear that. You're not ill, are you? I can ask Thera-"_

"Vi!" I grimaced again, "It's fine. It's...self-inflicted, anyway."

"_Oh?"_ there was a pause, and then I could _feel_ the penny dropping on the other end, _"Ooooh, _right_. Did somebody have a little bit too much to drink last night?"_

"Maybe," I said, "I can't really remember."

She laughed, _"Well, it sounds like it either went really well or really badly with Clint, then."_

"It went well," I said quickly, "We had a good heart-to-heart, and then…"

"_Right. Gotcha," _she said, _"Wasn't it a school night, though? I'm _sure _I saw a school bus go by this morning."_

"You're not the first person to notice that," I said irritably, "And if it's all the same to you, can we just forego the judgement? I got enough of that from Coop."

"_Sure- wait, hold on," _she said, and it sounded as if she'd turned her head away from the receiver, _"No, Sparky. She says she's hungover….yeah, apparently it _was_ a school night...stop laughing! No, stoppit!"_

"Tell him I liked him better when he was in a coma," I said tartly.

"_Hah," _she snorted, _"Well, shake it off and get your collective arses down here. I've got a lead, and you've got work to do."_

"I've got...what?"

"_You said you wanted to help, right?" _she said,_ "Well, it _might _have slipped my mind, but there's a counselling session that gets held at the Blip Centre every Friday. Normally Saint Chuckles here would do it, but until he recovers fully I'm not letting him within a mile of that place."_

"What do you want me to do?" I said, "I'm not a counsellor!"

"_Turn up and help me out instead!" _she said cheerfully, _"It's _easy_! You just sit there while a bunch of people tell you how much their lives stink since they've lost everything in the blink of an eye, and then you tell them they're wrong. You'd be a natural!"_

"Thanks... I think," I said, "And this lead?"

"_That's just it! According to Kostas there's a master list of the, um, residents_ _of the Missouri Blip Centres. He was a _little_ cagey about getting us access, but- no, Sparky, I did _not_ use my 'puppy dog eyes'! I swear-"_

"He sounds like he's getting better."

"_Yeah, he's full of beans," _she said wryly, _"But he's still fragile. I don't want to risk leaving him here alone, so I was _thinking _that _maaayybe_ Clint could..."_

"Babysit him?"

"_I was going to say 'play bodyguard'."_

"Oh yeah? What's the difference?"

"_The pay? I mean, we wouldn't be in a position to compensate him _immediately_, but our employer has pretty generous subcontractor rates. I can authorise it when I get back."_

"Are you serious?"

"_As a heart attack. Laura, I want someone I _trust _to protect Sparky, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to find anyone better round here than Hawkeye."_

"Oh, _really?_" I said, "I'm gonna quote you on that."

"_If you like. The point is he's a professional, and professionals get _paid_ for their services,"_ she paused, and added more softly, _"Besides...I know that saving the universe doesn't pay as well as people think."_

"Well...okay," I said, "I'll talk to him. 'Not making any promises, though."

"_Great! See you in an hour."_

"But-" there was a click, and then the line went dead, "...fine!"

* * *

Everyone seemed to have snuck out of the house while I'd been on the phone to Vi, and I guessed that Clint had probably seen Coop and Lila off on the bus before heading out himself. That was fine. as far as I was concerned, as it meant that I could go stand under an icy cold shower for the next half hour while I waited for my headache to subside.

It had to be said, the initial euphoria that I had over being 'proactive and in control' was starting to lose its shine. I was pretty sure I was being railroaded. In fact, I was _certain_ I was being railroaded. Up to this point, I'd kinda assumed that Thera had been the mastermind behind..._whatever_ they'd been up to, but now I wasn'tso sure. While Vi _seemed_ to be doing me an enormous favour, at the same time there was this niggling little feeling at the back of my head that I was just doing exactly what she wanted…

Eventually, I grew bored of freezing myself half to death, and went to get changed into something halfway presentable. If I _was_ going to listen to a bunch of people complaining about their post-Blip existence, I should probably look like I'd made a _bit_ of an effort. Not too much, though; my small collection of jewelry might just be cubic zirconia, but it would probably be in poor taste for me to meet a group who had lost everything while sparkling like a chandelier.

I'd just finished brushing out my hair when the crunch of tyres on gravel heralded Clint's return, and I rushed downstairs to give him an update before he could kick off his shoes.

"Hey," he said, and then his eyes widened, "Lookin' good, hon! Wait, what's going on?"

"Grab your gear," I said briskly, and snatched my coat down from its hook, "I'll explain on the way."

While my husband wasn't _entirely_ happy about being dragged out of the house while he was still nursing an Asgardian-strength hangover, the promise of paid work definitely got his attention. Within a couple of minutes, he'd changed out of that horrible string vest and into his _infinitely _more appealing commando leathers, and we were hurtling down the country lanes towards the now-familiar warehouse.

"So...did she say how _much_ she was going to pay me?" Clint asked, once we'd reached the interstate.

"No, but she did say that it was 'generous'," I replied, "And enough of this 'me' stuff! I got you this job; I think I deserve a cut!"

"Hah," he snorted, "I'm just wonderin' if I should bring the _good_ arrows."

"Honestly? I think it's just Vi being overprotective," I said, "I mean, have _you_ ever seen anyone else here? We staked out that warehouse for an entire week and all we saw was a couple of trucks."

"True."

"So I'm pretty sure that all you'll need to do is spend the afternoon _not_ shooting Thera in the face," I said, "Think of it as an exercise in self-control."

"Huh!"

Thera and Vi were peacefully against the side of the warehouse, presumably enjoying the bright Missouri morning. Vi seemed to be idly doodling something on a piece of paper, while her fiance dozed gently on her shoulder. At the sound of the car, she looked up, waved cheerfully, and nudged Thera to wakefulness as she got to her feet.

"_Someone's_ happy," remarked Clint.

"Oh, be nice," I said, and elbowed him gently in the ribs, "Remember, she's your employer."

"True, I guess," he said, "An' she can't be worse than Fury-oh, damnit."

"What?"

"I meant to tell you, I talked to Fury about the Blip Centres and-" he stopped. Thera and Vi were headed towards the car, "-I'll tell you tonight. Don't let me forget!"

"I won't," I said, and hopped out of the car, "Mornin', guys."

"Good morning!" Vi said brightly, "Very smart. Love the sunglasses. _Definitely_ can't tell you're hungover."

"Thanks," I said dryly.

"And Hawkeye," Vi said, and turned to regard my husband with an appraising look, "You...almost look professional!"

"More so'n you," he retorted, "You goin' paintballin' later?"

She laughed and gave her cargo pants a comforting pat, "Leave the trousers alone, mate. They're comfy and they have _pockets_. Do you know how hard it is to find women's trousers with pockets?"

"Actually, yeah," he said, and as Vi's eyebrow went up he added quickly, "You ain't never gone shoppin' with Laura. 'Takes forever to find _anything_."

"_Anyway_, moving on," I said, "It's good to see you up and about, Thera."

"Thanks. I have _this_ one to thank for that," he said, and gave Vi's hand an affectionate squeeze, "And you guys too, for dragging me back here. I guess I should've expected nothing less from the pancake waitress who was 'Employee of the Month' four times in one year!"

"You told him about that?" I gave Vi a flat look.

"No!" she said vigorously, "You'd be amazed what he picked up on."

"Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed about!" said Thera, "When we get back, I think we'll have to put something like that in place."

"You mean another award you'll never win?" Vi said playfully.

"They'll have to pick me for something eventually!" he said, "Besides, you know what they say; batter late than never!"

"Is that so?" Vi said, carefully. It was subtle, but as she turned to face Clint I was pretty sure she kicked Thera gently on the ankle, "Sorry, Clint, but as much as I love it you're going to have to lose the bow. I left my rifle for you in the office."

"And ammunition," Thera added helpfully, "_Stacks_ of ammunition."

"Hold on, Vi," Clint said, "You _do_ know who you're hirin', don't you? The bow's kinda my thing."

"Oh?" she said cooly, "I thought you were an expert marksman with _any_ weapon."

"'Course I am, but-"

"Well then, let's put it like this. If someone _were_ to come calling, and you _were_ to fill them full of arrows, don't you think it'd be pretty obvious to everyone who was responsible? Going on a rampage is fine if you're buggering around Sokovia or some other far-flung armpit, but don't you think we're a bit close to home? _Your_ home?" she gave him a worried look, "The last thing I want is for your family to face reprisals because of us, Clint. Please."

There was a pause while my husband considered this, and then he nodded grimly, "Yeah, okay. I'll use your rifle, but I'm keepin' the bow. You never know."

"Fine," Vi said, although she didn't look _entirely _happy, "Just so long as you keep it out of sight. Aside from that? Just keep an eye on him, keep an eye on the perimeter...look, I'm sure you know what you're doing, but-"

"Vi?" said Thera, "You're waffling."

"I know, I know! I'm worried!" she said irritably, "And stop it with the pancake puns! I swear, sweetie, if I hear one more I'm going to-"

"-flip?" he laughed, and quickly danced to the side. Vi closed her eyes, and with a sigh pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Okay, I walked into that one," she said, and gave him a sharp look as if _daring_ him to come up with something else, "Hawkeye? If you _do_ end up shooting him in the head, I'll understand. I'll even testify on your behalf."

"What, you reckon I can't handle some bad jokes?" said Clint, "I'm a _Dad_. I'm a walkin' repository of bad jokes."

"It's true," I said, "It's so, _so_ true. He has this one about an award-winning scarecrow…"

"It was outstandin' in its field!" he said, and Vi winced, "Get it?"

"I was mistaken; you two deserve one another," she said, "I'm sure you'll have a whale of a time."

"It'll be fine," said Thera, "Seriously. Nothing's going to happen!"

"Do you remember what happened the _last _time you said that?" she said sharply, "They're _still_ rebuilding that spire, you know."

"That was a coincidence!"

"And that's not reassuring!" she stopped, and exhaled long and hard, "I'm sorry. I'm getting worked up over nothing, aren't I?"  
"Maybe slightly, but it's okay," Thera said gently, "Besides, what can go wrong? You hired the best protection you could…y'know, given the location and short notice period."

"You know what?" muttered Clint, "I really might end up shooting him in the head."

"Just listen to your heart, hon," I said, "But keep me posted. If we need to go underground to escape her wrath then I'd like at least twenty minutes' warning."

"Will do, hon," he said, "Okay...this is gonna be a _long _afternoon."

* * *

We made our goodbyes and clambered back into the car while Clint and Thera vanished into the warehouse. VI watched them go in silence, and when they finally disappeared around the corner she sighed and shook her head.

"I'm sorry I snapped," she said, "I swear I'm not normally this on edge. It's just…"

"He seemed a lot better, though," I said reassuringly, "You both do. We could always do this on another day."

"No. Let's just get this over with."

The atmosphere in the car remained tense as we headed towards the Blip Centre. Vi stared out the window, apparently lost in thought, while I played with the onboard system and tried not to seem too uncomfortable. Eventually, though, the silence got too much for me and I turned on the radio, even if only to hear someone else's voice.

"_...and welcome back to St. Louis Public Broadcast Radio! Coming up: the fifth instalment of our increasingly popular 'Blip Dreams' programme, where we share and discuss the dreams of the Vanished following their revival! If you Blipped and have a dream to share, please dial in on...'_

"Oh? This is on?" Vi perked up suddenly, "I didn't realise the time."

"'Blip Dreams'?" I said, "What an odd idea."

"...yeah," she said eventually, "Some people're saying they're visions of the afterlife."

"You like heaven and hell, right?"

"Mmm. Most of 'em are pretty generic; you know, a bright light, angels, that kind of thing, but there's been a couple that... haven't been so nice," she said, "There was this guy who said he remembered being chased endlessly through this dark forest by this awful _thing_. He never really saw what it was, but it was always right at his heels. Apparently he got resurrected just before it caught him."

"That just sounds like a ghost story to me," I said dubiously, "I mean, I'd guess they'd be ghost stories by _definition_, but…"

"Oh, I reckon most of them are just a bunch of people either having a laugh or leaping on the bandwagon," she said, "But I can see why it's popular. It's trash, but it's comforting trash."

"Yeah," I said. For a while we drove on while the radio chattered in the background, and then I said, "So what do _you_ think?"

"Me? Well..." she looked a bit embarrassed, "I think I may have had one myself, so-"

"Really?" I said eagerly, and then toned it down a little, "What did you see?"

"Nothing, really," she said, "It was more what I _felt_. Have you ever been awake enough to know that you were asleep?"

"Yeah, once or twice."

"It was like that. It felt warm, and safe, and I knew that everyone I loved was there. Sparky, my parents, my friends..._everyone_. It was peaceful, too, more peaceful than anything I've ever known..." she stopped, and stared off into the distance, "That's it. No bright lights or angels, but not so bad as far as eternities go. Better than being chased through a forest."

"It sounds lovely," I said, "But...really _everyone_? Shouldn't it be half of everyone? I mean-"

"It's just a dream, Laura," she said, with just a hint of an edge, "Don't read _too _much into it."

"You're right," I said, "I suppose that the whole thing _does_ feel a bit far-fetched."

"Yeah, but any more far-fetched than anything else that's happened to us?" said Vi, with surprising earnestness, "I mean, we were murdered by a crazed alien overlord who assembled six gems of infinite power forged at the creation of the universe, which he plugged into a gauntlet that he had forged by giant space dwarves using the heart of a dying star! Of course, he only got to Snap us because the actual, _literal_ god who appeared right at the last second through a wormhole missed the kill shot with his god-killing axe. Five years later, your husband and his buddies invented time travel over coffee, reassembled those gems, resurrected us, _and_ fought Thanos' alternative dimension stunt double at odds of 14-million-to-1 against! If any of that had played out any differently, we wouldn't be here, and yet..." she trailed off, but then added, "I'm just saying that compared to all of that, the existence of an afterlife is pretty small potatoes."

"I suppose. I just thought that when I died I'd get to see Dad, reconcile with Mom...and yet it all passed in the blink of an eye," I said, "Do you think I got to do all that?"

"I'm sure you did," she said, and gave me a kind smile, "And I'm sure they loved your kids, too."

"But _how_ can you be sure?"

"I'm not. Of course I'm not, Laura!" Vi chuckled, "I'm just remembering something that my shrink told me years ago. We don't _know_ what happened when we were Blipped. We _could _have all gone to our various paradises or we could have just been dust. In the absence of any evidence, why not go with the story that makes you happy?"

"I suppose," I said, "And you know what? I probably _did_ need that five year holiday in my idyllic beachfront palace..."

"Exactly," she said, and nodded towards the collection of containers coming into view on the horizon, shining in the sun, "Game face, Laura. You'll need that optimism to deal with this jolly bunch."

* * *

This time, we didn't even need to buzz in on the intercom. At our approach the gates ground open ominously, and we drove smoothly through the airlock into the reception area.

"That's...odd," Vi remarked, "Maybe they remembered your number plate."

"I hope not," I said darkly.

As we were pulling up my phone suddenly went off several times, and Vi gave me a quick, curious look.

"News from the lads?" she asked anxiously. It _was _Clint, and from the looks of it he'd sent several texts over the past twenty minutes, "Is Thera okay?"

"Give me a chance, Vi!" I said, "Guess we must have been passing through a dead spot. Hold on…"

_Hi hon. Thera made tea. Quite good. Said he was going to 'crash' and then fell asleep on mats. Tell Vi everything fine._

"He said everything's fine. Thera made him tea," I reported, "And then...crashed?"

"Yeah, he probably would," she said, but looked relieved nonetheless, "He's still recovering, after all."

"Okay, let's just see what else he said..." I said, and scrolled through the remainder.

_She really went to town on these mannequins, didn't she? Precision strikes w/ very sharp blade. Style familiar._

_All fine. Will send 30 minute updates. Let Vi know._

"He'll keep you posted every half hour," I said, "And he's impressed with what you did to those mannequins."

"Yeah, that's a pretty normal reaction," she said flippantly, "Anyway, let's go get you signed in!"

The reception area was unchanged, although Kostas had been replaced by a middle-aged, severe looking woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses. She was leant back in her chair wearing a pair of thick, black headphones and reading a large sci-fi novel, and although her eyes flickered towards us she made no attempt to move as we approached.

"Mornin', Summers! Odd to see you working the desk," Vi said. The atmosphere immediately cooled a couple of degrees, and Summers made a point of slowly and carefully turning the page before she took off the 'phones and gave Vi a withering stare.

"You're _late_, Miss Doe. The meeting started five minutes ago."

"I had to make a couple of arrangements first," Vi said casually, "Anyway, I'm just signing in my friend here."

"Go right ahead," said Summers irritably, and slapped the sign-in book down on the desk for me to fill in, "Please be sure to indicate if you Blipped or not, ma'am."

"Hold on," I said, "Why is _that _a relevant question?"

"Following the incident with Mr. Bulkagov on Tuesday, the higher ups have decided to increase security and reduce the number of non-Lost coming on site," said Summers, "I'm afraid you will have to wear a badge."

"I haven't heard anything about this!" protested Vi.

"Kostas said he called you. Unfortunately, he was unable to get through," the woman said, with a rather disingenuous smile, "We can't be held responsible if residents fail to keep abreast of changes in Blip Centre policy. Perhaps next time you'll be _here_, instead of gallivanting off wherever you please."

"Ah, I _see_," Vi said, "You're sore you've been stuck with desk duty 'cause there aren't enough saps to do it, right? You'd better get comfortable, sweetie. We're busy."

"Is that so?" said Summers, as she picked up her book and placed her headphones firmly back on her head, "Well then, please be busy somewhere else."

"Sure," Vi leaned over the counter and snatched up a visitor lanyard which she handed to me. It said 'Lost' in large blue letters on the card, and I felt a slight chill as I put it on, "C'mon, Laura. We'd better go see to these poor dears."

I followed Vi through to the conference room, and she closed and carefully locked the door behind us. It was devoid of people, but someone had arranged some chairs in a roughly circular pattern on a rug in the centre, and on a small corner table a coffee maker burbled and bubbled away next to a box of donuts. Vi surveyed it with a critical eye, and sighed.

"I hate this room," she said, "I know they built this place in a hurry, but why wouldn't you give the damn meeting room windows? Would some natural light _really_ go amiss?"

"I'll admit, I thought it was odd that there was a conference room here in the first place," I said, "What's it meant to be used for?"

"When we first turned up, we were told that this was where people would meet their loved ones when they were matched," Vi said, "Of course, nobody's been matched yet, so we just used it for group sessions. I see they remember a trick that Sparky taught them, though," she indicated the box, "Remember the doughnuts. People don't bloody turn up unless you bring doughnuts."

"Yeah, but... they haven't," I pointed out.

"They'll be along. It's not like anyone's got anything better to do," she said, "Lose the badge, though. It gives me the creeps."

"Me too," I said, and gratefully took it off, "'Sounds like someone's been listening too much to Keame."

"They will, 'round here."

"Yeah, but I dunno," I said, "Something else stinks, doesn't it...'Miss Doe_'_?"

Vi laughed, "Yeah. I _may_ have left the surname field blank on the form they gave me. Next thing I know I'm Miss Viola Doe, F23."

"But it _does_ stink, right?"

"To high heaven," she agreed, "But we'll deal with that later. Right now...coffee?"

As she turned away to deal with the coffee pot, the door at the far end of the room opened and a small group of men and women filed in in complete silence. One or two of them caught my eye as they went to take their seats, but looked away immediately in favour of the floor, ceiling, or one of the apparently extremely interesting light fixtures on the wall. Their expressions were grim, determined, and I got the distinct impression that they _really _didn't want to be here.

"Um, hi?" I said, and gave them a small wave and a smile. Nobody responded, "I'm...Laura, and...I'm here to…"

"Hey Laura," Vi called, apparently oblivious to the dead atmosphere, "Come here and tell me how much milk you want!"

"Oh, sure," grateful for the distraction, I hurried over to her and whispered, "What's going on? You didn't say it would be like this!"

"I didn't _know_ it would be like this!" she hissed back, "I'm really sorry! I didn't expect _this_!"

"Okay, but-"

The door creaked once again, and then someone said 'Hello, Vi!'. We turned, as one, to see the young man who had been on desk duty the last time I'd come here. While he'd looked bored and somewhat downtrodden last time, now he seemed cheerful and energetic.

"Ah, Kostas," Vi said, "You're joining us today?"

"Of course, I didn't want to miss... _this_," he said, and then inclined his head in my direction, "Hello again, ma'am."

"You're welcome," I smiled. At least _somebody_ was being receptive. Maybe he'd make a good icebreaker… "Coffee?"

"No thanks," he said, and sat down on an empty seat at the far side of the circle, "Are we waiting for Thera?"

"There isn't coming," Vi said, and as she handed me my coffee she muttered, "Just follow my lead, okay? It'll be fine."

"Okay…" I said, and together we went to sit down on the last two remaining seats. The other attendees looked up as we did so, and we were suddenly frying in their collective gazes. I found myself revising my earlier thought, it was that _they_ didn't want to be here, but rather that they didn't want _me_ to be here. As in town, I felt like I was out of place, intruding on a world that wasn't mine.

"_So...you don't feel at home with the Lost, but you don't feel at home in town. Where does that leave you?" _asked my inner voice,_ "Is there anyone left in the centre ground?"_

"I'm sorry, did you say Thera's not coming?" Kostas cut across my musings.

"That's right," said Vi.

Kostas' expression darkened slightly, and when he spoke he sounded frustrated, "You didn't mention this on the phone."

"It didn't seem relevant," said Vi, "My friend Laura here very kindly offered to step in instead. She's very good. I've been talking at her almost non-stop since we met."

"Hi!" I smiled brightly, and got basically the same response as before.

"But this won't work without- you know what? Never mind," he sighed, "Vi, the entire Blip Centre community is grateful to you and Thera for holding these meetings. There's a lot of people here who're going through some real rough times, and...just knowing that there's someone who cares means a lot to all of us."

"Mmm-hmm," Vi raised her eyebrows, "I sense a 'but' heading this way."

"Hah, you know me too well," he said, with an easy smile, "Yeah, it means a lot to all of us, but we don't _need_ these things anymore. You ever heard of Dr. Keame?"

Part of me had almost been expecting that, but my fingers still tightened reflexively around my coffee mug. Vi's face remained carefully bland.

"The refinery guy, right?" she said calmly, "The 'Voice of the Lost'?"

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically, "I knew you would've heard of him. You've always got your ear to the ground! You see, where you and your fiance're trying to help us _accept _this shit hand we've been dealt, he's going to fix it for us!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! The rest of the world? They've all moved on, Vi. They lost, they grieved, and they came to terms with it! We need to do the same; we need to move on and carve out a patch for the Lost."

"We don't need the left behind anymore!" said another attendee, a rather heavyset man, and there was a rumble of agreement from the others.

"You're wrong!" I said, surprising myself with my own forcefulness, "My husband spent five years grieving for me. I've seen families desperately searching for the people they lost! They haven't moved on, and if we hadn't come back, some of them never would!"

Once again I found myself staring down a bunch of angry gazes. This wasn't going well. This wasn't going well at _all_. Vi, however, gave me a small smile and a nod of encouragement before adding, "She's right, Jack. Of course, you guys wouldn't know that if you just sit around here all day gnawing on your livers, and excluding everyone who _didn't _Blip. A couple more policies like that badge one and one might almost think you _are_ running an internment camp. Why?"

"To keep ourselves safe!" declared Jack, "You've seen what Keame's been saying, right? They call us 'refugees', 'homewreckers', even 'ghosts'! You open those doors to them and they'll be more than willing to take a crack at us. Look what happened to Bulkagov!"

The other attendees nodded once again, and I could feel the atmosphere in the room turn that little bit more ugly.

"_That's-"_ I began.

"-interesting," Vi interrupted me smoothly, "So you don't need us anymore? That's fine. Gives me more time to organise my sock drawer."

"Oh, I didn't say we didn't _need_ you," said Kostas, "Just that we didn't need you running these little meetings. Why would we want you doing that when you're _clearly_ capable of so much more?"

"And... _what _do you mean by that, Kostas?"

"C'mon, don't be coy," he said, and leaned in, "Bulkagov's survival was nothing short of a miracle. I've been hearing that some people've Blipped back..._changed_, too. It ain't difficult to put two and two together."

"Maybe not," she said, "Have you told anyone else yet?"

"Not all the details, but I told my bosses enough to get them interested. Possibly even interested enough to forgive you for your interference."

"Interference?"

"Let's just say that they weren't happy to hear that you were looking for the master list. They feel like you are getting too curious for your own good."

"You sold me out? That figures," Vi sounded more irritated than surprised, "And...by your 'bosses' you mean Keame, right?"

"Eventually," he said, "They wanted me to discourage you from further involvement, but I managed to convince them to let me talk to you first."

"How _very _considerate of you."

"I've always been good at seeing potential," Kostas said, without any hint of modesty, "Think about it; you're like the rest of us, a nobody in a world that's forgotten you! You'd get back everything you lost and more; never mind a broken down warehouse, you could be living in a _mansion_!"

"Wow. That's quite an offer," Vi turned to me, "Laura, could you get me another coffee, please? I need to think this over."

"Um, sure," I said, and took her cup over to the machine, "White?"

"No thanks, black. Nice and hot. So, Kostas," she said, and turned back to the eager looking young man, "Let me get this straight. You and your pals here think that Keame would be willing to give us money and fame if we just stand up and wave the flag?"

"That's right!" he said, and some of the others nodded eagerly, "Just think; with your fiance the... way he is, you could become a symbol for the Lost!"

"The..._way_ he is?" Vi said, and suddenly burst out laughing, "Mate, there's no such thing as 'super-Lost'! All that's telling me is that you listen to the same rubbish as I do."

"But-"

"My Sparky has always been, well, _sparky_, Kostas. It's just who he is. I'll tell you what he isn't, though; he's _not _a case for Lost supremacy. If you want to swan around claiming that your deaths had some greater purpose then that's great, but don't bring him into it."

The eager looks from the men and women in the room suddenly darkened, and I could see them glancing between one another, almost as if they were willing one another to respond first. As I returned with the cup of hot, steaming coffee, I saw a couple gaze meaningfully at me out of the corner of my eye, and I felt a distinct prickle go up my spine. Apparently immune to the worsening atmosphere, Vi accepted the coffee with a bright smile and took an experimental sip.

"That's _perfect. _It'll really hit the spot," she said, although she grimaced slightly, "Oh, I'm sorry Laura; would you mind getting me a doughnut while you're up? Take your time."

There was something strangely intent about her gaze, and I felt the prickle grow stronger. With a weak smile and a 'sure', I returned to the corner table as she carefully got to her feet and stepped deliberately into the centre of the circle.

"So you at least admit that Thera's..._unusual_," Kostas said.

"Sure, why not?" shrugged Vi, "It's not like that information's going to be leaving this room."

"Why, Vi, that almost sounds like a threat."

"Nah, it's an observation," she said casually, and took another sip of her coffee, "I wasn't born yesterday, mate. I _know_ that this conversation is going to go one of two ways. One, I sell out my fiance to a blackmailing, torturing monster, or two, your goons take those weapons they've so very _badly_ concealed about their persons and make sure we're adequately 'discouraged' like your bosses want. Rough us up? Kill us? Not sure, but I'm sure you'll make an example of us nonetheless."

I looked up sharply from the donut box and stared at Vi as the prickling in my spine crystallised into ice-cold fear. How long had she known? Had she known from the _start_? Why hadn't she said anything?

Kostas laughed as he stood up, "Blackmail? Torture? C'mon, Vi; you've got a very active imagination."

"Don't insult my intelligence," she replied scornfully, "Laura picked up on it too. Don't you think it's _odd_ that you and Summers are so _sure _that Bulkagov was attacked in his room, by an outsider no less, when even _he_ doesn't know what happened? Care to explain?"

"Well-"

"Listen, I know you both know exactly what happened," her gaze scythed around the room, "I'd bet you've even seen those lovely pics Caleb took!"

"But you agree, don't you," Kostas said, "It _was_ an attack by an outsider, wasn't it!"

"Sure. On _Keame's _orders, let into the camp by _Keame's _supporters," her gaze scythed around the room, and was met with angry glares in response, "Which I guess would be _you _fine lads and lasses. You all comfortable with being party to this?"

There was another deadly silence, and then it was Kostas' turn to laugh, "You see, _this_ is why I wanted to bring you over to our side, Vi! You're smart, confident, and you've got that supercharged fiance! Why are you wasting time with people like _Laura_-" his tone turned contemptuous, "-when you could be playing in the big leagues?"

"The big leagues? Don't make me laugh, sweetie," she retorted, "Besides, I _like_ Laura. She was there for me when I needed someone, which is more than I can say for any of _you_."

"How very sweet," said Kostas, "So which is it gonna be, Vi? The easy or the hard way?"

"Take a wild guess," she smiled brightly and hurled her cup of boiling coffee in his face. As he screamed and staggered backwards she struck him hard across the cheek with the cup. Shards of bloodstained china flew in every direction, and in a single, fluid motion she twisted inside his grasp and flung him to the floor with a brutal hip throw. There was a horrible crunch and then dead silence, broken only by Kostas' soft whimpering as he curled up on the floor.

"Just in case I _wasn't _clear," said Vi, as the other attendees scrambled to their feet, "I'm taking the easy way."

"You bitch!" Jack snarled, and with a rustle of clothing Vi was suddenly in a circle of flashing knives and other assorted weaponry, "You'll pay for that!"

"Not the most original line, but alright. Let's get a few things sorted first, shall we?" she said casually, "Firstly, I have to congratulate you guys on being one of the most _egalitarian_ would-be murder posses I've ever encountered. Honestly, you guys look like you've been handpicked by a committee. Wouldn't you agree, Kostas?"

The man said nothing, and she gave him a rough prod with her boot.

"What's the matter? You were so talkative a minute ago!" she sighed and looked around at her strangely reticent attackers, "Right. Ground rules. Firstly, no hitting in the face; Sparky and I are having some quality time tonight for the first time in _ages _and I don't want any black eyes spoiling the occasion. No hitting below the belt either, for related reasons. Secondly, no going after my friend-" she waved in my direction, "-I saw a couple of you looking and I'm sure you're now thinking that she's the easier option. She _isn't_. If you come after me I'll only kick your arse; you attack her, and I will spread you so thinly across the walls that people won't know if you're a corpse or modern art installation. Thirdly-"

A man behind her suddenly lunged forward and stabbed at her neck with a cruelly serrated blade. Vi swayed almost idly out of the way, and as the blade sailed past she stepped back, got a good grip on his wrist and pulled his elbow down viciously over her shoulder with a wet snap of bone. His eye-watering scream of pain stopped suddenly as she jerked her head backwards and caught him hard on the nose; there was a brief spurt of blood, a blur of movement, and suddenly Vi was behind him holding the bread knife against his throat. Everyone froze.

"Oh, this guy I _like!_" Vi declared, "He doesn't worry about the moral turpitude of stabbing an outnumbered woman in the back, he just gets stuck in and gives it a go! You guys could _learn _something from his can-do attitude! You got a name, mate? Don't think we've met!"

The man went pale and stared desperately at his friends, clearly trying very hard not to swallow.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you!" she said, with a wild smile, "And see, I have this rare condition where my arm makes these wild sawing motions if people don't answer my questions-"

"Mike," he choked out, "My name's Mike."

"Hmm," she mused for a moment, and then shrugged, "Nope, wrong answer! I guess you die."

"No, wait-!" he began.

"Oh, you have a problem with that?" she said, and he choked as she drew the blade against his windpipe, "That's odd; I didn't see any hesitation when it was _your _knife and _my_ throat, but if you just _insist_ on living…hey, Becky! Catch!"

Vi kicked him hard towards a woman who was brandishing a chair like a shield. His broken arm flailed uselessly as they went down in a tangled heap of limbs and furniture, effectively pinning them both against the ground. Her remaining attackers spread out into a rough semi-circle, and their knives glinted menacingly in the light as they slowly closed her down. Judging from her expression, she didn't seem very impressed.

"And then there were four," she said, idly twirling the bread knife around her hand, "It must be _so _frustrating for you. All you thought you needed to do was rough up a couple of women, right? Well, I've got news for you," she gave them a nasty grin, "_This_ particular woman once took down something whose name was mostly apostrophes. In her _dressing gown_. What do you think I'm going to do to _you?_"

"We gotta split up," said Jack, and nudged the rangy man next to him, "Cody? We'll take this bitch. Erin, Juan?" he said, indicating a woman with short black hair and her stocky partner, "Take the other one!"

"Oh, _shit_," I gulped, and backed away into the corner as they advanced menacingly. I wasn't Vi, and from their grim expressions they clearly knew it. Behind me I felt the edge of the table, and my hands skittered desperately across its surface as I looked for _anything _that could keep them at bay. My mind flashed back to that terrible moment fighting Caleb in the rain, but there weren't any arrows to save me this time, "Vi! Help!"

"Hold on, Laura!" she cried, but the two larger men moved to block her path. With a quick glance over his shoulder Juan pounced, his knife glowing lethally in the light, and my fingers tightened around something warm and soft just I threw myself gracelessly to the side. Pain exploded down my left side as I slammed into the wall and then in a flash Erin was on me, both hands behind the knife as she tried to drive it through my throat. Somehow, I managed to get a grip on her wrist, just enough to deflect the blade into the wall, and as she growled in frustration I drove the donut into her face in an explosion of cream and jam.

"_Oh, sod _this_!"_ a voice bellowed from across the room and reverberated painfully inside my head. A moment later the lights exploded spectacularly, showering the room with sparks and shards of glass as we were plunged into darkness. The room suddenly filled with cries of alarm, and my would-be murderer shrieked as she was whipped out of sight by an unseen force. I fell to the floor, gasping for breath, and scrambled under the table as the room was lit up by a sudden blaze of pure white light from the far aside of the room.

"What the _fu-_" Jack's cry was cut off with a choke. With mounting fear I watched as his silhouette was lifted off the floor and _fired _down the full length of the conference room, hitting the wall nearby with a sickening crash. He collapsed limply to the floor, and I screamed and scrambled further into the corner as his head lolled around to face me with dead, unseeing eyes.

"_I _warned _you_," the voice echoed powerfully, _"I bloody _warned _you."_

Slowly, carefully, I peeked through my fingers towards the source of the light and felt suddenly lightheaded. Vi was... _glowing_! Her body was surrounded by a brilliant corona that threw everything into sharp relief or reduced them to mere silhouettes, and she stood now in a low combat stance with an icy expression on her face. The casual, almost playful attitude had gone; she was a woman on the warpath, and though I wasn't the focus of her wrath my blood still ran cold as I stared.

Cody shrank away from the glow, but as she stepped towards him he screamed and took a wild, panicked swing at her with his knife. Almost scornfully, she slapped it aside with a glowing hand and countered with a hard blow to the face. There was a blinding flash, an ear-splitting crack, and the stench of burning human flesh filled the air as he slumped lifelessly to the ground.

"_Honestly, guys,"_ she said grimly, as she picked her way across the carnage towards me, _"I kick the crap out of three of you without breaking a sweat and the rest of you _still _fancy your chances? Did you Blip back without your brains?"_

A weak sob floated out of the darkness, and as Vi drew closer her glow illuminated the couple who had tried to knife me. They were huddled together fearfully, tears streaming down their faces as she strode meaningfully towards them. With a flick of her wrist two shards of blinding light appeared threateningly between her fingers, and Erin shrieked and buried her head in Juan's shoulder. In that moment, I thought I saw a faint flicker of empathy pass across Vi's face, but if I did it was gone as soon as it arrived.

"_Ah yeah, you two," _she said eventually, _"Don't think I'd forgotten about you, yeah? I made it _pretty_ clear that attempting to hurt Laura would have..._consequences._"_

Almost idly, she tossed one of the shards up in the air, and then caught and threw it at the couple in a single motion. It blazed through the air like a comet and hammered into the wall just inches from Juan's ear, where it started to smoke. The man jerked away and pulled Erin close, shielding her body with his own.

"_Oops, missed!"_ Vi said, with a predatory smile, _"Let me just try that again."_

"Pleas-!" Erin pleaded, and screamed as another shard blasted a small crater in the floor next to her foot.

"_Goddess! What is _up_ with my aim today?" _the glowing woman exhaled melodramatically and called another pair of shards into existence, _"Right. I think I've got it this time. Hold on-"_

"We're sorry! We didn't want to be here. Summers..."

"_Summers?" _Vi stopped mid-throw, _"Summers _what_?"_

"She said we had a choice of either being here or they'd...they'd..." she babbled, _"_I _swear _we didn't want any part of this, but they've…"

"_They're blackmailing you?" _Vi asked, and the woman nodded mutely, _"Are they blackmailing _all _of you? Is that why you're here?"_

"I d-don't know. I don't think so," she said, and huddled back against Juan, "We just wanted to get out of here! Nobody's coming to help except Keame…"

"_Mmm…" _Vi thought about this, and then dismissed the two shards with a wave of her hand,_ "When I leave, you're going to call the police and tell them that there was a massive argument here that led to...all this. Do _not_ mention myself or Laura. None of this happened. Do you understand?"_

"Yes," she nodded quickly, "I understand. But you're...letting us go?"

"_Against my better judgement...yes," _Vi pointed to the far side of the room, _"Go. Now. Don't let me change my mind."_

There was a pause while the couple stared at her disbelievingly, and then they clambered quickly to their feet and raced off into the darkness. A moment later there came a crash of furniture and a yelp of pain. Vi regarded them with a weary shake of her head, and then dropped to all fours and crawled under the table.

"Hey, Laura," she whispered gently, and I shied away as she extended a hand, "Hey, c'mon. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You...you killed-" I began.

"I know," she said calmly, and sat down at a respectful distance, "I'm sorry. This must all be very scary for you."

"And you're _glowing! _Actually _glowing!_"

"Am I?" she said dryly, "Goddess, I hadn't noticed."

"Does it hurt?"

"Only if I want it to," she said, "Oh, wait, you mean for me? No."

"Hah," I snorted, "I guess I was right, then. About you not being normal."

"I _am_ normal!" she protested, "I even have a certificate saying I'm normal! That being said, I accept the point that if you need a certificate for that, then..."

She trailed off into silence, and then scooched a little bit closer.

"Laura, I'm _so_ sorry I put you in danger," she said sincerely, "By the time I'd clocked what was happening there wasn't any way of getting you out of here safely. If I'd known, I'd _never_ had exposed you to-"

"It's okay," I said, and gave her a reassuring smile, "I mean, you went all..._glowy_ for me."

"I kind of had to," she said, and her lips quirked slightly, "You were trying to defend yourself against a knife with a bloody _doughnut_! Were you hoping she had a wheat intolerance?"

"Hey! That affects something like six percent of the population!" I said, and when she raised a glowing eyebrow I added, "I...read that on the Internet."

"That's great, but one hundred percent of people are intolerant of half a litre of near-boiling coffee to the face," she said, "The coffee pot was right there!"

"I guess I'll have to remember that for next time," I agreed, "You planned all that, didn't you? The coffee, keeping me out of the way...?"

"I did the best I could with what I had," she said, "I didn't want to go all, um, 'glowy', and I really thought I wouldn't have to, but then I saw you at knifepoint and I-"

She stopped suddenly, and I patted her gently on the hand, "Thank you, Vi. Like I said before, I won't say anything."

"Not even to Clint?" she gave me a disbelieving look.

"Okay, maybe to Clint," I admitted, "But _nobody _else. I mean that."

"Just so long as you don't tell Strange," she said, "It kind of sounds like he's got it in for us as it is."

"Maybe it's _why_ he's got it in for you," I said, "I kinda see now why you might have stood out at the Battle of Earth."

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that. My alternate reality selves really gave the game away, didn't they?" she sighed, "Selfish gits."

"Well, nothing you can do about that," I said, "And I guess getting access to that master list's out, too."

"Not yet, it isn't," she said grimly, "From the sounds of it we still have one loose end to tie up. I'll just grab a knife, and we'll go see about putting a spring in Summers' step."

"Why do we need a knife?" I said, and waved indistinctly at her, "Can't you just glow her into submission?"

"You want me to walk around burning like a sun?" said Vi, "No thanks. People tend to remember that. Besides, I don't _need_ that to make someone like Summers sing. Just give me five minutes and I'll have her inside leg measurement and complete medical history, including the really embarrassing bits."

"Okay…" I looked at the man with the broken neck, and shuddered once again, "And what're we going to do about these people?"

"Nothing. We're going to let those two sort it out. If they're smart, they'll recognise that their lives depend on not dragging us into it. Besides-" she smiled slightly, "-what officer is going to believe that two women, one of whom is _you_-"

"Thanks for that."

"-managed to do _this_ kind of damage? There were seven of them, Laura, most of 'em with _knives_. Are they _really_ going to claim that I turned out to be some kind of superpowered martial artist who took them to pieces? That's pretty much a one-way ticket to a mental institution."

"You seem awfully confident about that," I said, and gave her a sharp look, "Why do I get the feeling that this has happened before?"

"No comment," she said, and looked out over the carnage, "But at least I kept my promise."

"Oh yeah?"

"You have to admit...this _was_ spectacular."


	17. Chapter 17: Backlash - Part 2

**Chapter 17: Backlash - Part Two**

I sat there in silence next to my human (or at the very least, human_ish_) nightlight while my head span. For some reason, the fact that I was sitting next to a woman who was glowing like an angel was a lot less disconcerting than I thought it'd be, but I put that down to a mixture of shock, adrenaline, and the lingering effects of Clint's Asgardian super-booze. Besides, it wasn't as if I didn't already _know_; even if I hadn't called her on it the writing had been on the wall for quite some time. The first time we'd met she'd dropped two storeys and landed like a cat, and while I'd been staggering around a pitch black warehouse being spooked by creepy mannequins, she'd positively _skipped_ through it as if she were frolicking in a summery meadow. If Clint and I hadn't spent all our time focused on Thera and _his _unnatural abilities, we might have put two and two together…

"Okay. Break time's over," Vi said grimly, dragging me out of my ruminations, "Give me a moment to grab some gear and we'll go see Summers. I'm in the mood for something sharp. Very sharp."

"Be quick," I said, and leaned away from Jack's dead, accusing eyes. A mixture of saliva and dark, thick blood was slowly draining from his mouth onto the floor, and I gagged as a faint coppery taste mixed nauseatingly with the already-pervasive smell of burned meat, "Is it..._always_ like this?"

"What, nasty, brutish and short? Yeah. What did you expect?"

"I don't know," I admitted, as I slowly inched my way out from under the table, "Part of me thought that it would be more...choreographed?"

"You mean like in a movie? _Really?_"

"Yeah," I said, "And believe me, I know how stupid that sounds."

"That's because it _is_ stupid, sweetie," she said bluntly, "But...surely Clint's talked about his experiences?"

"Are you kidding? Clint's even _worse_ than a movie! You should hear the stories he tells the children," I said, with a slight smile, "He makes the Avengers sound like a group of swashbuckling pirates."

"Doesn't surprise me. He seems like he'd be good with kids," Vi turned over Cody's body with her foot, revealing blackened, charred skin around a blasted eye socket, "Goddess, what a waste. What a _bloody _waste."

"He had a knife, Vi," I said. The sadness in her voice was subtle, but it _was _there, "And you were defending yourself - defending _us_."

"Yeah, I know. It's just...he gets a second chance against unimaginable odds, and _this _is how it ends? A damn scrap in a Blip Centre conference room, on the orders of someone who probably didn't know he existed and _certainly_ won't care that he's dead."

"You'd prefer it be us?"

"Of course not! But that doesn't make it any easier," she said, and then her gaze fell on something that was just out of view, "Oh, _hello_. What do we have here, Kostas? Never mind something sharp-"

Kicking a chair to one side, Vi moved with quick, purposeful steps towards the burned, broken man in the centre of the ruined circle. She stooped, and I heard a faint rustle of clothing and a whimper of pain.

"I know," Vi said, in a surprisingly gentle tone, "And I'm sorry, but you _did_ kind of set us up and you _did_ bring these- what is this?"

She beckoned me over. In one hand she was holding a small snubnose revolver, fully loaded, while in the other she held a familiar, flowerlike gadget. Unlike the device we'd taken from Caleb, though, this one was undamaged and even seemed to be functioning. Its silvery petals shone brightly in Vi's glow, and a small green light pulsed gently deep in the centre of its dark, central bulb.

"No wonder he's staying down," Vi observed, and tilted it so I could see the rich, red blood smeared around the razor sharp tips, "I've landed on my keys before, but this must have been like falling on a cookie cutter."

"That's a Muffler!" I exclaimed, and she raised a luminous eyebrow, "I told you about them, remember? It completely soundproofs a room."

"Oh, right - the acoustic dampener," she looked down, "So we couldn't call for help while you were torturing us, eh Kostas? Not exactly cricket, is it."

The young man moaned quietly, but said nothing in his defence. It wasn't that surprising; now I was close I could see where the Muffler had bit hard into his side, and blood was slowly seeping through his cotton top. I caught Vi's eye, and she nodded ever so slightly.

"Becky?" she called, and there was a sound of a chair shifting, ever so slightly, "When we're gone, you're going to come over here and put some pressure on this wound while Erin and Juan get an ambulance. I don't want to come back here and find that the death toll climbed any higher, right?"

There was a tense silence, and then a faint, hoarse 'yes' floated out of the darkness.

"Good," Vi said, "And just so's you know? From now on you guys are gonna be my very bestest friends here at the Blip Centre. When Thera and I come back - and I assure you, we _will_ come back, I expect this centre to have pulled together and started acting like a _community_. You know, one where you look out for each other instead of sitting in your containers griping about how the world hates us and you're better off without them."

"But-"

"Shut up, Becky," Vi said, "You want your death to have meaning? You ain't gonna find it working for someone like Keame. There are people here who _need_ someone to give them direction. There are _children_. Go and do something that doesn't involve trying to beat the shit out of a pair of women because you don't like the idea that we might actually be able to get some people back to their families. You never know; one day it might be _your _mum at the gates."

There was more silence, but it seemed to have acquired a distinctly contemplative edge.

"Think about it," said Vi, "And I really hope you do, because if you don't? Well, I might be forced to..._reevaluate_ my decision to let you live, and unlike Keame I take very _personal _responsibility for my actions. Any objections…No? Very wise."

Vi turned away and handed me the Muffler, before giving the revolver a quick once over with a thoughtful look on her face. After a moment she sighed, snapped open the cylinder, and transferred the bullets to a pocket before snapping it shut again.

"Alright, Laura," she said, "Keep that Muffler thing close to you and make sure it stays on. Let's go pull on that thread."

* * *

Without another word the glowing woman walked briskly to the door, leaving me to trail behind with the bloodied Muffler. I tilted it this way and that, looking for a switch or some means of turning it on or off. Sure, it _looked_ like it was working, and nobody had come to investigate even when Jack had been smashed against the wall, but...maybe they were just biding their time? I had no way to tell.

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," Vi said, apparently catching my expression, "Let's focus on Summers for now."

"Right," I said, "So...how are we doing this?"

Vi paused for a moment, her hand on the lock, "Brute force intimidation, I think. No need to get clever with her. Just follow my lead and we'll be back at the warehouse with that master list before you know it."

"You seem pretty confident about this," I said, and gave her an accusing look, "Do you do this often?"

"You'd be surprised," she grinned nastily, "Sometimes Thera and I cop for the Friday night shift, and if I can scare a six foot four drunken adonis into teetotalism I'm _pretty _sure I can break our haughty friend out there. Like I said, just follow my lead."

"Okay."

"Good. Ready?" she pressed herself beside the door, and I took up a position just next to her, "We'll go in three...two...one..._now!_"

Vi's light flared and then winked out, plunging the conference room back into complete darkness. I heard her pop the lock, and then in a single smooth motion she wrenched the door open and burst through into the room beyond.

"Miss Doe!" I heard Summers' cry, "What in the _world _do you think you're-"

The cry ended as a shriek, and as I left the conference room Summers' headphones came whipping past me and shattered against a wall. With brutal efficiency Vi swatted aside Summers' feeble attempts to shield herself and wrenched her arm viciously up behind her back, pinning her hard against the desk. There was a brief, futile struggle, but Summers suddenly froze as Vi gently brought the revolver to rest against the back of her head. The 'click' of the hammer echoed around the room.

"What are you _doing?_" Summers hissed, "Have you gone completely _insane?_"

"Me? Insane? Oh, no," Vi said congenially, "I even have a certificate _saying _I'm sane! I mean, it's mostly written in crayon and drool, but I think we're all prepared to overlook that fact, right Laura?"

"Oh, um...yes?" I said, a little weakly. She gave me an annoyed look and mouthed 'play along!'.

"So what do you _want?_" demanded Summers. Given her current position, I had to admit she was displaying an aggressive degree of composure.

"Nothing much," said Vi, "I just wanted to relay the minutes of the meeting we just had. It was very productive, I have to say, _very _productive. Offers were made, offers were rejected, and Laura here hit Erin in the face with a doughnut, which was something I've never seen before."

"You-"

"Anyway, we've got a couple of actions for you under AOB," Vi went on casually, "Specifically, to arrange the funerals of Jack and Cody. It's very sad, really, but Jack hit a wall at eighty miles an hour and Cody? Well...his eyeball just kind of spontaneously exploded. Very odd."

"Jack and Cody are _dead?_" Summers whispered, and her face went pale, "But-"

"But this is where it gets _really_ interesting," Vi said, and with a sudden jerk she spun Summers' chair around so she was facing her, "It appears that you've been holding out on me, mate, so we're going to see if we can't get that sharp little tongue of yours wagging."

"I...I…" Summers stuttered slightly, apparently still attempting to get her head around Vi's casual description of her fellow inmates' demise.

"Yeah, I hear that a lot," Vi replied, and held up the revolver for her to see, "So... I found this on Kostas, fully loaded no less. Honestly, he's lucky it didn't just go off in his trousers, but-" she snapped open the cylinder again, "-you'll see _I _emptied it. Well, no longer."

With a small flourish she produced a bullet and placed it quickly in a chamber, covering it with her hand so neither myself nor Summers could see what position it was in. She closed the revolver, this time with a careful _'click'_, and trained it on Summer's breastbone.

"I'm sure you know what we're doing, right mate? I don't need to explain what's going on," she said calmly. The other woman had gone stock still, and I could see a faint bead of sweat forming on her forehead, "You know, I read once that someone tried to do this with a semi-automatic. Didn't end well."

"You're not serious-" Summers began, and we both flinched as Vi squeezed the trigger. There was a loud _'snap'_ as the hammer slammed home.

"What makes you think I'm not serious, Summers?" said Vi, in a suddenly dangerous tone, "At best you've got another five chances. I suggest you don't waste them grandstanding."

"Vi, wait-" I began, but quailed as she shot me a deadly look.

"Laura? Be quiet," she said icily, "This is between myself and my colleague here."

"You can't...I can't let you _kill_ her!"

"Oh, sweetie; did that drinking session of yours destroy your short term memory? How would _you_ stop _me_?"

"But this isn't what we agreed-" I stopped as Vi's finger tensed around the trigger.

"Summers, would you like my friend here to stop talking?" Vi said sweetly, and Summers nodded, slowly, "Good choice. Now, could you look at the object that Laura's holding and tell me what it is?"

"It's...it's…" Summers jumped and gasped as another _'snap' _echoed through the air.

"Oops! I'm sorry!" Vi laughed gaily, as she cocked the hammer once again, "My finger slipped! Honestly, you would've thought that eighteen years of training would've taught me better trigger discipline! Four chances max, Summers."

I looked between Summers and Vi, and felt a deep sense of fear pool in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't an interrogation; this was an execution, and Vi had all the air of a cat playing with a mouse before delivering the final blow. From the expression on Summers' face, I could tell she knew it too.

"_Are you really going to be party to this, Laura?"_ said my inner voice, _"Jack and Cody were self-defence, but this would just be murder. It'd be no better than what Caleb did to Bulgakov."_

"Vi-" I began, but Summers shot me a pleading look.

"Laura!" she said, in a short, breathless tone, "Please! Stop talking!"

"I'd _listen _to her, sweetie," Vi added firmly, "So Summers, what _is _this thing?"

"It's a Silencer!"

"Close enough. Why is it here?"

"I don't know!"

"_Nope! _Try again," Vi said, and pulled the trigger. I felt a jolt as the gun went _'click'_, "Three left, Summers. _Why_ is it here?"

"That Johnson boy brought it!"

"You mean the man _posing_ as Caleb Johnson?" Vi said sharply, "Who let him in? Where is the _real_ Caleb Johnson?"

"I-I don't know! I swear!" Summers pleaded, "After Thera gave him that examination, he just...walked out! Then Kostas let th-the boy in - it wasn't my fault!"

"I suspect I'm going to be hearing that a lot over the next week or so," Vi said grimly, "But you still _knew_ that Caleb had tortured Bulgakov, didn't you? Don't bother denying it; Laura heard it too."

"I...yes," she said, "I don't know _why_ they did it, Vi. I really don't! When I saw the pictures I threw up, but…I was told I had to make the rumours go away!"

"So that explains the whole 'keep out the non-Lost' thing you've got going on," said Vi, "How about the blackmailing, then? How did you get Erin to join that meeting?"

"I _didn't_-" her objection was cut short by another nasty _'click',_ "-oh Jesus!"

"Well, aren't you lucky!" Vi sounded almost disappointed, "Based on the law of averages, there should now be a large hole in your sternum. Oh well, there's always next time. Or _definitely_ the time after that!"

"_Laura!"_ my inner voice urged, _"You have to do something. _Anything!_"_

"She mentioned you by _name_, Summers!" snapped Vi, "Don't _lie_ to me! We both know that Erin couldn't murder her way of a paper bag! What do you have on them?"

"Nothing! I mean, _I _don't have anything on them!" she said, "It was Kostas' idea! Once he worked out what had _really_ happened with Bulgakov, he just got..._obsessed _with Thera. He really thought that being Blipped gave some people superpowers."

"You don't believe it?"

"Three and a half billion people got Blipped," she snorted, "If it did, don't you think we'd have heard about it by now? He was just trying to give people hope!"

"And suck up to his 'bosses', right? I heard they weren't happy with us."

"They weren't happy to hear that you were setting yourselves up as an alternative to the Foundation. They didn't want the competition."

"Yeah, because otherwise people wouldn't be willing to pay their price. And once you're in debt to them, you're not getting out again," Vi shook her head, "Goddess, Summers, how could you have been so _stupid?_"

"Stupid? We had no choice!" Summers snapped, "You know just as well as I do that neither the government nor the army gives a damn about us! They've just left us here to rot! Keame was the only one who stepped up, and we were desperate!"

"_Desperate?_" Vi said scornfully, "You think I'm not desperate? I've been cut off from my home, my friends and my family! Just 'cause I'm not arranging torture sessions or luring people into death traps doesn't mean I don't lie awake at night worrying about them!"

"I'm a grandmother!"

"And I'm an aunt! I assume you _want_ to see your grandchildren again, right?"

"Yes!" Summers said, "Of course!"

"Then give me the master list!" Vi snapped, "I want to know the names of every kid in every Blip Centre in Missouri, _today_!"

"We...we don't have it!"

"You don't?" I said, and Vi suddenly looked chagrined, "But-"

"I'm sorry!" Summers wailed, and then burst into tears, "We don't have the master list! Kostas just said we did because they wanted you and Thera to come here. Please don't-"

Vi's eyes narrowed, and she squeezed the trigger hard.

"Oh, you are _unbelievably_ lucky, Summers," Vi said irritably, as the woman screamed and collapsed into a near catatonic state, "Last chance to tell me something useful."

"Vi! Wait!" I said urgently, before she could shoot again, "Even if she doesn't have it, she might know where it is!"

"That's true," she conceded, "Hear that Summers? Laura just saved your life. Now where do you think that list might be?"

"I...I don't know," Summers babbled, "Maybe Keame has it? He must do!"

"She's right, Vi. This whole plan of his depends on him keeping his hands on that list," I said, "If someone steals it or copies it he can't blackmail anyone! His whole power base would collapse overnight."

"Interesting," Vi said, and for just an instant a sly grin flickered across her face, "Do go on."

"And...if _we_ could get our hands on it, it wouldn't just be Poppy or Alvin we could help; it could be everyone in Missouri! We could reunite _everyone_, Vi!"

"You don't say."

"And...I get the feeling I'm telling you something you already know."

"Not at all," Vi said, and turned back to regard the sobbing woman, "But still, we have this loose end to tie up. I'm not sure we can risk her reporting any of this back to her 'superiors', so…bye, Summers."

In just that instant time seemed to slow down, and I saw the terror in Summers' eyes as Vi lifted the gun slightly and aimed carefully down the barrel. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but determined.

"_It's now or never!" _said my little inner voice. Before I really knew what I was doing I lunged forwards with a desperate 'No!' and hit the revolver with the palm of my hand, knocking it to the side just as she pulled the trigger.

There was a _'click'_.

In the horrible silence that followed, I closed my eyes and braced myself for Vi's inevitable, dreadful outburst. What _had_ I been thinking? I _knew_ what Vi was capable of! Maybe if I was lucky she'd just explode my brain, like Cody-

A hand fell gently on my shoulder, and I tensed almost involuntarily.

"That took guts, Laura," Vi said softly, "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

"You're..._unbelievable!_" I spat out angrily, "I _saw_ you load that gun!"

"It is a bit of a puzzle, isn't it?" she said, and flipped open the revolver to show six empty chambers, "I wonder where the bullet went?"

"I-"

"Say, Summers, is there something behind your ear?" Vi frowned and leaned forwards. There was a flash of brass, and then she was holding a short, stubby bullet up to the light, "Oh, there it is! Goddess, I'll forget my own head next!"

The middle aged woman looked between us once again, and then broke down sobbing.

"Oh, Summers, why are you crying?" Vi asked, in a curious tone, "I don't recall any tears when you let us go into a meeting with a bunch of murderers without any warning, do you, Laura?"

"I...think you've made your point, Vi," I said, and felt a twinge of sadness as I looked at the pathetic, weeping heap, "Hell, I think you may have broken her."

"If I did, she deserved it," Vi said bluntly, and knelt down beside Summers, "I'll be holding onto this bullet, so that you know _exactly_ what'll happen if you cross me again. When we're gone, you're gonna go in there and help the rest of your traitorous bunch deal with Jack and Cody. After that you're gonna help them make this place the very Blippiest, Keame-free place it can be. Understood?"

The woman nodded slowly, and then motioned Vi in closer. As she whispered something to her, my phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket.

"Has it really been half an hour?" I said, and looked briefly at the clock as I took out my phone. My stomach lurched as I saw the first text.

_DO NOT RESPOND TO TXTS_

It was quickly followed by another, and I felt my blood suddenly turn to ice in my veins.

_6 black cars arrived 30 men all armed w rifles & armor_

"Vi!" I cried in alarm, and her head snapped around, "The warehouse!"

_Maybe plastique too_

"I know," she said, and gave Summers a nasty look, "Left that one a little late, didn't you?"

_Taking Thera to forest to hide. DO NOT COME BACK _

_DO NOT RESPOND GOING DARK_

"What do we do?" I said, as my heart raced in my chest, "He says there's thirty men with armour and rifles!"

"I guess this is why Kostas was so annoyed Thera wasn't here, eh? They wanted to ransack the warehouse while we were away!" Vi said angrily, "Goddess, I've been played _twice_ today! C'mon, we're leaving."

"But…" I paused, "He said not to come back!"

Vi stopped, "Laura, the last time I checked _I_ was the one calling the shots. If I say I'm going back, I'm going back."

"But what if we make things worse?"

"Oh, I _intend _to," said Vi, as she strode towards the door, "Much, _much_ worse."

* * *

We dashed to the car as quickly as we were able as the gates ground open in front of us. As soon as I judged there was enough space I put the pedal to the metal, and with a howl of abused electrics the car took off like a rocket, barely missing the gates as it shot onto the approach road.

"Good acceleration," Vi remarked. She was slowly and carefully loading bullets into Kostas' revolver.

"Yeah," I said, and then added, "Do you feel sick? I think I feel sick."

"I'm not surprised."

"So...what's the plan?"

"The plan?" Vi's brow furrowed slightly, "The plan is that you drop me off somewhere nearby and then head for home while I turn everyone into bolognese. I'll call you when it's safe to come back."

"No!" I said sharply, "I'm coming with you!"

"Oh, _really_?"

"Really! I'm not leaving Clint in danger!"

"Clint's job is to _be_ in danger, Laura! How is this any different from any time he's shipped out with the Avengers? Or when he was...doing his thing?"

"Because I couldn't help him then!"

"You can't help him _now!_" Vi snapped, and then she sighed, "Look, Laura, I'll admit you're a lot...scrappier than I expected, but those are likely _professionals _out there, with _professional _equipment. They aren't like Caleb or Erin."

"I'm not afraid!" I lied.

"Of course you are, sweetie," she laughed sardonically, "I can see it written all over your face."  
"Okay, so maybe I am," I said, "But I don't want to be a coward anymore! I've spent half my life hiding from my life, for Christ's sake!"

"And what, you think that taking on thirty heavily armed men is bravery? It's reckless stupidity!"

"So you're a reckless idiot?"

"Yeah, but I know what I'm doing!" she said, "Eighteen years experience, remember?"

"I heard you earlier, but _really?_" I said dubiously, "Because I'm _pretty_ sure you're only about thirty! Otherwise-"

"Thirty-one in May," she said quietly, "And...yeah, it means exactly what you think it means."

There was a long silence while I desperately tried to think of something to say. Nothing was forthcoming.

"Oh," I said eventually, "So you would've been Lila's age when-"

"Yeah."

"But didn't your parents-"

"No," she said, brusquely, "Arson."

"My _god_, Vi! Was there...did you at least get justice?"

"Of a sort," she looked out the window, "Yesterday I told you that 'hurt people hurt people', right? They paid for what they did, but I learned some very harsh lessons about revenge. Almost lost everything."

"I'm...I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologise, Laura," she said firmly, "I've already cried all the tears all I'm going to over what happened. It's just... part of who I am now, and right now it's the part that's going to pull your husband and my fiance's feet out of the fire and look good doing it."

"I just wish you'd said something earlier. It...explains a lot."

"No doubt," Vi gave me an arch look, "But I don't go around telling that to just _anyone_. Now will you _please _just sit this one out?"

I thought about it, and finally shook my head, "No. If you want me to stay out, you'll have to knock me out. Or kill me. I'm _not_ leaving my husband in danger."

"Goddess, you're stubborn!" she flared suddenly, "What makes you think I _won't_ knock you out."

"Because you won't."

Vi's face worked as she tried to come up with a retort to that, but finally she threw up her hands and said, "Fine! Just stay back, stay down, and don't blame me if you catch a bullet between your eyes! You've already _had _your do-over!"

"Duty noted," I said, "Now, how're we going to get in there? You've only got six rounds, and Clint said they're wearing armour."

"Not sure this revolver will really cut the mustard, then," Vi thought about it for a moment, "We'll want their gear."

"And how're we going to get it?" I paused. She was giving me an appraising look that I was quite sure I didn't like, "And why are you looking at me like that?"

"You know what? I think I just _might_ have a use for you," she said, with a nasty little smile, "Listen up..."

The journey between the Blip Centre and the warehouse normally took about fifteen minutes. I managed it in eight, most of which was spent sweating as I stared at the speedometer and prayed that no police cars would spot the black SUV haring down the interstate at over 110mph. Apparently satisfied with my first attempts at street racing, Vi had slipped onto the back seats where she now lay hidden from the world by the tinted windows.

I had known what to expect from Clint's texts, but even so my heart still skipped a beat as the parking lot came into view. Six large gleaming cars, almost identical to mine, were parked in a rough semicircle across the tarmac. All their doors were fully open, and two men were in the process of transferring equipment boxes out of the trunks. They were visibly armed and armoured, and I felt a shiver go down my spine as one looked up at my approach.

"There's only two of them," I said quietly, "They look like they're getting things out of the cars."

"Makes sense. If people see a load of armed men looking suspicious they might call the fuzz. I bet the rest of 'em'll be inside or chasing the lads through the woods, depending on how clean Clint's getaway was. Anyway, you know the plan; you're a flirty stay-at-home, uh-"

"-soccer mom-"

"-soccer mum who's having car trouble and needs some _big, strong, handsome men_ to help her out. Be sure to emphasise the _'big, strong'_ bit, yeah? Flutter your eyelashes a bit, too."

"This is _so_ degrading," I muttered.

"I agree! Which is why you're doing it. Now slow down before they open fire."

With my heart pounding in my chest, I brought the car down to a slow crawl as I pulled into the parking lot. The man who had been watching me gestured to his buddy, and they both headed in my direction, as I brought the car to a juddering halt. Both of them were tense and had readied their weapons, but relaxed when they spotted me sitting alone in the driver's seat. One of them even broke out into a cocky grin, and I forced a smile in response as I lowered the driver's side window.

"Hello...um, boys!" I said, and tried to ignore the mocking laughter deep within, "I'm _so_ glad I found someone!"

"Well, good afternoon ma'am!" said the cocky one, leaning personably on the window, "I'm afraid that this area's off limits to civilians."

"Oh my!" I said, "Really? Why?"

Right on cue the unmistakable _crack_ of a rifle split the air. The cocky smile vanished for just a moment, and he exchanged a worried look with his fellow enforcer.

"My _goodness_!" I gasped.

"Drugs bust, ma'am," he said, and puffed out his chest, "We're shutting this place down, but we're facing some resistance."

"Well, I have to say that I'm _very_ glad that such big, strong and-" I fought with the word for just a moment, "-_handsome_ men are keeping us safe! It looks like you're doing _such _important work, too."

Another _crack_ tore through the air. This time it was answered by a rapid staccato of gunfire, which was suddenly silenced by another shot.

"Y-yes," he said, after a moment's pause, "The operation hinges on us all doing our part."

"I'm very sorry to be getting in your way, but I was having trouble with my car and I didn't feel safe on the interstate. If I could just-"

"Say no more, ma'am," he said, "Actually, I'm training to be a mechanic for these S-types. They've got a couple of problems but most of the time it's a pretty easy fix. Want me to take a look?"

"Would you?" I said, and once again found myself having to force out the words, "I'd be _so_ grateful. Normally my husband would deal with this, but he's...not _here_."

"No ma'am," he said, with a knowing grin, "Hey, Piers; can you just go check the trunk? There's a small box with some lights on it…"

"Sure, Smith," the other man said, and with a weary shake of his head he went around to the trunk. I listened tensely for any sound of movement, and as the back slowly opened I thought I heard a _crunch_ and then a very faint sigh.

"Say, ma'am," Smith said, "Ain't you that lady who punched out that schoolteacher? It is you, isn't it!"

"Oh, Christ," at least _this_ time, my grimace was real, "It wasn't a schoolteacher, but-"

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said, and gave me another cocky grin, "I _like _a woman with some fire in her! Maybe...we could get a drink sometime?"

"Sure," I put on my best, helpless smile, "But I'm not going anywhere until-"

"Right. Right. Let me just check under the hood," Smith said, "Would you mind?"

"Oh, um…" I fumbled around under the wheel and found the release button. The hood slowly rose into position, and Smith wandered casually around to take a look.

"Huh," he said, in a faintly puzzled tone, "Well, I don't _see_ any issues. Hey, Piers, what-"

His question was cut off mid-sentence by an unpleasant, almost organic noise, followed by a faint gurgling wheeze that slowly trailed off into silence. Even the birds seemed to have gone quiet, and I felt a chill pass over me despite the heat of the noonday sun.

Somewhere off in the distance, I heard the report of a high powered rifle, firing twice. That _had_ to be Clint, right? But that would mean-

I jumped as a pair of hands appeared on the top of the hood and slammed it down. In Smith's place now stood Vi with a slightly amused smile on her face.

"Good job, Laura," she said, "Smith here fancied himself quite the ladies man, didn't he? Talk about the cradle robbing the grave."

"Christ, that was fast!" I said, "I thought you were by the trunk!"

"Mmm-hmm," she said, "Anyway, out you hop! We've got work to do."

As I got out, I could smell a strange, almost metallic tang in the air. It immediately reminded me of the smell from the conference room, and as I came around to the front I was not _entirely_ surprised to see a small pool of blood seeping from around the knife deeply embedded in Smith's neck. It shone in the sun, wet and sticky, and I had to fight down a sudden urge to gag.

"You okay there?" Vi gave me a concerned look. She was straddling the corpse and seemed to be working at something just under his chin, "Sorry about the blood. He seems to be full of it."

"I'm-" I quickly put my hand over my mouth, "-I'm fine. Where did you find the knife?"

"Oh, that Piers bloke had it," she said, "And you know what they say; variety is the spice of life!"

"Do they say that? _Who _says that?"

"_Somebody_ says that, I'm sure," she said, and there was a sudden _ping_, "Aha! Thank you, Ladies Man."

Quickly, Vi lifted the helmet off Smith's head and inspected it for a moment before handing it to me.

"Here you go," she said, "Looks like I kept the blood off it. Put it on, and make sure you tuck all your hair under the rim."

"Are you serious?"

"No, it's part of my hilarious 'put this helmet on' routine," Vi said sarcastically, "'Brings the house down every time. Give me a moment and I'll have his tactical vest for you as well."

With a sigh, I put the helmet on and somehow managed to cram all my hair inside. The straps needed some adjustment, but I thought I'd managed to achieve a pretty good fit by the time Vi stood up and handed me a slightly stained jacket.

"Not bad," she said, and rapped her knuckles hard on the side of the helmet, "Better than I'd expected. I'll help you fit the jacket properly when I've dealt with Piers."

"You really think this is going to help?" I said, "I don't think I'm fooling anyone."

"I think you'd be surprised, actually," she said, as she headed back round to the trunk, "For some reason people never expect it to be a woman under the tactical gear. I've been mistaken for a short bloke loads of times, at least until I said something," she snorted, "It's like they think I should be wandering around in metal swimwear or one of those slinky catsuits. You know, like Agent Romanov used to wear?"

"She..._did_ like those suits."

"So did her colleagues, I'd wager," she said dryly.

"But...do you _really_ think that this'll help us blend in?"

"Not up close. Neither of us are _really_ going to pass for Smith or Piers, I mean, _c'mon_," she placed a caramel-coloured hand next to the pallid Piers for comparison, "Nobody's that stupid. However, it _might_ make them hesitate for half a second before they open fire, and I can do quite a lot in that half second."

"And it'll keep the bullets on the outside, I suppose."

"See? There's almost no downsides! We'd-" she stopped as another pair of shots rang out in quick succession, and I saw a hint of worry cross her face, "-we'd better get moving. Hawkeye's good, but his luck won't last forever."

* * *

With Vi's help I managed to get the bulletproof vest seated, and once she'd dressed herself we set off through the loose barricade towards the warehouse. Although good, the fit wasn't perfect, and there was a horrible wet patch on the neckline of the vest that made my skin crawl and shrink away with every movement. The rifle, too, was hot and heavy, a far cry from the shotgun I kept back at the farm. Still, I held it close, kept it pointing down and every so often checked to make sure the safety was still on. Vi had made it _very_ clear that mine was just for show, and held firm in the face of my repeated protestations. At the time it had felt ridiculous; I wasn't a damn kid and it wasn't like I was unfamiliar with firearms, so why was she treating me like a bumpkin who would shoot my foot off at the first opportunity?

That question was answered the instant we got moving. Between the helmet, the jacket, and the rifle, I felt like a jangling, uncoordinated mess who would be out of her depth in a snowball fight, never mind a pitched battle. By comparison Vi almost seemed to _flow_ across the parking lot, moving with effortless, liquid grace, and despite having been scavenged from a significantly larger man her equipment somehow seemed tailored to fit. Part of me was impressed, but at the same time I had to admit I felt a twinge of jealousy. If my husband _really_ needed saving it was pretty clear who was going to do it, while I was...what? Moral support? Heavily armoured arm candy?

"_So you want to be the one to save the day, eh?" _my inner voice observed, _"Never mind the risks involved; you just want to be the heroine?"_

"I'm just tired of feeling useless! Of _being_ useless!"

"_So it's not that you feel like you're playing second fiddle to another woman? Could've fooled me. You were like this with Nat in the early days, remember?"_

"So maybe I want to be more like them. More..._competent_. So what?"

"_Competent at what? Killing people? Toying with them? Do you really want to be the kind of person who _enjoys_ emotionally torturing people? Because Vi did. She's damaged goods, Laura, just like Nat."_

"Nat wasn't a bad person, though!" I protested, "She died saving us all!"

"_And she was a great auntie, too, but she was also a ruthless murderer, interrogator, and occasional terrorist. Vi is a loving fiancee and _clearly _willing to throw down for you, but...you saw what she did to Summers. Even if she _did_ try to have us killed, that was going too far."_

"I don't...what're you saying?"

"_That it's _good_ not being more like them. And there's lots of ways to be more like you. When all this is over, why don't you buy some some spray paint and go throw that tag of yours up all over town like you're sixtee-"_

"Hey!" a pair of knuckles rapped hard, on my helmet, "Are you having fun in there?"

"What? I-" I shook my head, and turned to see Vi regarding me with some irritation, "Oh, sorry."

"'Sorry'?" she rolled her eyes, "Look, Laura, I know you like a good daydream, but could you ask that monkey on your back to go bother someone else before you go skipping into a pitched battle?"

"I...wait," I gave her a suspicious look, "You can't read my mind, can you?"

"Not through the hold music, but it's _pretty_ obvious that your brain is back in its idyllic beach-side Blip mansion. Do you want that to become its permanent residence?"

"No!"

"Then _focus_, Laura!" she said sternly, "Goddess! You really _are_ like Thera, aren't you!"

"I'm sorry. I _am_ sorry," I said sincerely, and straightened up, "I'm not messing around."

"Glad to hear it," she said, and waved at the stacks of equipment piled up in the shade, "Look at all this plastique! Did they want to demolish the warehouse or send it into low orbit?"

"Why would _I_ know? Is it really safe to be around?"

"Oh, yeah," she said easily, "At least, until they put the blasting caps on. Still, I don't think they were really expecting anyone to be here. I'm not seeing flashbangs, or gas grenades, or-wait, what's that?"

She quickly stepped over to a silver carry case. It was empty, but the foam padding within suggested that it had originally carried a large, sleek device that was maybe three feet long and delicately curved.

"A rocket launcher?" Vi was muttering to herself, "No. That's silly."

"What do you think it is?" I asked, "Is it a weapon?"

"Can't think what else it _could_ be," she said, "Unless they're bringing a trombone to a gunfight. I just...I've never seen a weapon shaped like this before, and I get a funny feeling about this case."

"Really?" I looked at the case. It looked entirely normal to me, "What kind of feeling?"

"Tingly," she extended a cautious hand towards the foam, "Yeah, it's like pins and needles running up my arm. I don't like this, Laura."

Another _crack_ ripped the air apart, and Vi looked up sharply as sustained barrage of gunfire opened up in response.

"Damnit, we'll have to worry about it later!" she said, "It sounds like Keame's men are closing down on them. C'mon, let's go make a racket."

Vi led me quickly and quietly down the side of the warehouse to the side door, where she motioned for me to stop while she listened at the door.

"Yeah, they're in there, alright," she said after a moment, "Not sure how many, though, and I'm not sure where they are."

"So charging in…"

"Would be suicide, yeah."

"What're we going to do?"

"Something unpleasant," she held out her hand. The bright summer day suddenly seemed to wane ever so slightly, and as I watched thick ribbons of twisting white light flowed out of the air and towards her palm. Where they met, they merged to form a marble-sized speck of blinding light and heat that rapidly swelled to the size of a baseball. Vi tossed it up and down a couple of times, apparently feeling its weight, and nodded approvingly.

"Should be enough," she said, "When I throw this, turn away and cover your eyes. It's going to be _bright_."

"What _is _that?"

"Concentrated sunlight. _Heavily_ concentrated sunlight. Enough to permanently blind anyone looking at it."

With practiced ease, Vi turned away and banged open the door with her fist. From inside there came a cry of surprise, which suddenly changed to alarm as she tossed the ball of sunlight inside and then turned away. I did likewise, quickly throwing my arm over my eyes, and there was a loud 'whump' and rush of air. From the warehouse, there came a chorus of terrified screams that rose in pitch and then suddenly went silent.

"There we go," Vi said casually, "You can look now."

I opened my eyes, somewhat hesitantly, just in time to see a man dressed in full tactical gear come staggering blindly through the door. His clothes were smoking and his face was hideously burned and blackened, with empty, bubbling eye sockets that reminded me immediately of the man back at the Blip Centre. He was clearly in terrible pain, but instead of a scream all that came out of his charred throat was a faint rasping wheeze.

Vi shot him cleanly through the head.

"Did I say 'blind'?" she said conversationally, as he dropped to the floor, "I meant 'cook'. Permanently 'cook'. Honestly, I thought I set that to 'medium rare', but..."

Yet again I fought down the urge to gag, but if Vi noticed she paid it no heed. She had already stepped over his body and vanished into the warehouse interior, and from within there came a pair of shots that I assumed was her finishing off the blinded enforcers. With an effort, I pulled myself together and headed inside, dreading what I would see.

It was as bad as I had feared. The main hall of the warehouse was now a mess of scorched mats and half-molten mannequins, and the acrid stench of burning furniture filled the air. Amongst them blinded and burned soldiers staggered or crawled, whimpering and weeping piteously. Vi was moving rapidly from one to the other, executing them with the same cool expression I normally reserved for pulling up weeds.

"Christ, Vi," I said, surveying the aftermath with a mixture of awe, terror, and disgust, "This is…"

"Efficient," she said shortly, "The word you're looking for is 'efficient'."

"I was going to say 'a bit much', actually! The Avengers never did anything like this! _Clint-_"

"Oh, really?" she snorted, "You think your team of shiny superheroes never blew anything up?"

"Well, sure, but-"

"And when they hit the self-destruct and lit out just ahead of the fireball, did you ever stop to wonder what happened to the people who _didn't_ bring their own jet?" she took careful aim at another soldier, "Wonder no longer. _This_ is the result."

"But-" I covered my ears as the shot reverberated around the room, "-this is just..._ferocious_."

"Of course it is!" she said angrily, "Laura, I'm protecting my fiance, my idiot friend who doesn't know when to quit, and her husband. You're damn _right_ I'm going to be ferocious! Those stories that Clint tells your kids...they're like those fairy tales with the talking animals and bloody musical numbers! _This_ is the thin end of the wedge, mate; it's an unsanitised, original Grimm, and it's _why_ I wanted you to go home!"

She placed her foot firmly on the chest of the last surviving soldier, and as I turned away she pulled the trigger. I heard the body twitch once with the shot, and fall still.

"Do you think Clint is being any more sporting out there?" she went on, "By my count he's shot seven-"

There was a shot from outside.

"-eight men," she continued, with barely a pause, "Maybe he should stand up and-"

Exactly _what_ Vi thought Clint should do was interrupted by the sudden '_ksshk'_ of a radio, somewhere amongst the lightly smoking corpses of the demolitions team. We looked at each other for a moment, and then scrambled across the warehouse looking for the source of the noise. After a moment, the sheeting static resolved itself into an annoyed-sounding voice that immediately made me think 'wannabe military'.

"_-come in! What the hell is going on in there? Come _in!_"_

I found it, embedded in the remains of a mannequin that had half-melted onto a hapless soldier. My skin crawled as I felt the thin layer of warm wax covering the device, but I got as good a grip as I could and pulled it free.

"H-Hello?" I said, rather tentatively. Vi, who had been heading in my direction, immediately sighed and put her palm across her eyes. "I mean, identify yourself!"

"_Who is _this_? What's going on in there? Where's Collins?"_

"Collins? He's dead," I looked at the corpse half-encased in plastic, and added coldly, "In fact, they're _all _dead. We killed them."

Vi gave me an incredulous look and then mouthed _'we?'_. Before I could reply, a litany of highly inventive curses came streaming out of the radio.

"Okay," I said eventually, "You know what, Mr. Commander Guy? Back before the Blip, I was a nice person. I was a _really_ nice person. I was _so_ nice that most people didn't even realise I existed. But I'm not that person anymore; when I came back I punched a woman in the face just 'cause I didn't like her attitude, and then I stabbed one of your buddies half to death and tortured him until he was crying like a baby and begging for mercy! What do you think I'm going to do to you, you stupid _bastard,_ now that you've decided to pick a fight with my husband? It's quite simple; if you don't surrender and throw down your arms right now I swear I am going to come out there and _fucking kill you!"_

I took a deep breath and plunged on, tapping into the wellspring of anger growing deep within.

"You think I'm lying, don't you? You're thinking 'Oh, she's just some crazy bitch talking tough 'cause she's on the other end of a radio'! Well, you're half right; I _am_ crazy, and so is my friend here. In fact, I hope that she gets her hands on you just so I can watch her melt your face like that Nazi with the glasses who opened the Ark of the Covenant! I hope your _fucking_ skin comes dribbling off your face like candle wax! Do you _fucking _understand me, buddy? We're _coming for you!"_

I flung the radio to the floor as hard as I could and then smashed it with the butt of my rifle. It cracked and hissed in a most satisfying manner, and with a final crackle the signal went out.

"Ferocious, right?" I said, turning to Vi. For a moment she stared at me in silence, her enormous amber eyes wide with shock, "Hey! Vi! _Focus!_"

"I- um, right," she said, "Didn't expect _that_."

"Good, eh?"

"Like a travel-size lioness," she said approvingly, "...but the intention was to get them to send reinforcements. Now they think we're coming to _them_."

"Oh, damnit," I said, "I-"

"It's fine," she waved, "Clint said there were thirty men or so. Between these guys, the ones he's presumably killed, and Ladies Man and his sidekick out in the car park, I don't think there can be more than ten left. Let's go melt their faces off."

"I…" I grimaced, "You don't have to do that, you know!"

"You're the one setting expectations, mate," she said, "I'm just trying to deliver as best I can. Now get moving."

Vi led me at a pace through the back of the warehouse, where a pair of doors led to an overgrown storage cage, well-shielded by the canopy overhead. We passed quickly and quietly between stacks of mouldering camping equipment and busted canoes, alert for any would-be ambushers waiting in the shadows, and eventually emerged at a small gate leading into the forest - or at least, the large, circular hole where it should have _been_. Nearby, there was a small pile of chain link piled erratically on the ground, and in amongst the twisted metal a small brass padlock shone brightly.

"Well, I think we've found our mystery weapon," said Vi.

"No bolt cutter did this," I agreed, and she gave me a curious look, "What? I was...a rebellious teenager."

"If you say so," she said, "I'm getting that same tingly feeling here as well. It's weak, but it's there."

"So where are they?" I said urgently, "I'd hate to think what this could do to Clint!"

"Oh, it wouldn't be pretty. Hold on-" she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before pointing off into the woods, "He's over there. Sparky's over there."  
"Are you sure?" I said, and she gave me a flat look, "Sorry."

"Just stay close," she said, and set off into the bushes. I followed as best I could, clattering through the bushes she glided silently ahead, making almost no noise and leaving no trace. Once again, I felt a slight twinge of jealousy as I found myself struggling against uncooperative terrain, obstructive ferns and ever-present roots.

"Stupid heeled boots," I muttered to myself, "If I'd known _this_ was going to happen, I'd-whoa!"

My foot caught against something hidden in the undergrowth, and I tripped and fell painfully on my unforgivingly hard rifle. With a groan, I slowly levered myself back up to a sitting position and found myself staring at a boot, which in turn led to a limp, ashen-faced corpse with a bloodied hole square between his glassy eyes. I shrieked in surprise and scrambled away, only to find myself face to face with yet another corpse with identical injuries.

"Oh Christ!" I said, and tried to get my beating heart under control. This had to be Clint's work, I realised, and felt a slightly macabre flutter of pride. Sure, Vi might be able to weaponise the sun, but could she do _this?_ Somehow, I didn't think so.

As I clambered noisily to my feet I heard the harsh buzz of a radio. It was lying in the outstretched palm of one of the fallen enforcers, and as I quickly snatched it up the buzz changed to the voice of a young man. Despite his attempts to sound professional the panic was clearly audible, and for a split second I almost felt sorry for him.

"_-no effect, sir!" _he was saying, _"Repeat, our weapons are having no effect!"_

"_That's ludicrous, Hunter!" _said 'sir', who I recognised as the individual from before, _"Check your sights!"_

"_I can confirm several direct hits on the targets, sir, but they appear to be employing some kind of defensive shielding! Our rounds are breaking up on contact!"_

"_And the contingency?"_

"_Sir, we-"_ the report of a rifle echoed through the woods, _"-shit! He got _Webber_, sir! He- oh Jesus-"_

"_The contingency, Hunter! Full power!"_

"_I...yes sir."_

"Oh, no," I felt my heart skip a beat as I scrambled back up, "Vi! They're going to-"

From somewhere in the forest, far ahead, I heard a high-pitched crackle and a dazzling purple light streaked amongst the trees like a comet. I grit my teeth and plunged onwards through the undergrowth, ignoring the vines tugging at my clothes as I raced towards my husband. I had no idea what I was going to do, none at all, but I had to do _something_! Clint needed me!

The light winked out, and I ducked down reflexively and braced myself against the inevitable wave of heat and light. There was a heart stopping silence, and then...nothing.

I jumped as the radio crackled. The reception was terrible, but I could just make out the panicked man's voice, _"Sir! Um, sir! No effect!"_

"What_? But-"_

"_But the contingency, sir, it-"_ in the background, I could hear a faint whine, slowly gaining in pitch and intensity, and in the distance I could see a dim, blue-gold aura slowly coalesce. The colours were identical to the light show we'd seen over the Blip Centre, and my mouth went dry as I watched it rapidly become more brilliant until it resembled a miniature star and reduced everything before me to mere shadows. Scintillating rays suddenly stabbed out into the foliage, carving smoking furrows through the thick fern bushes and starting small fires across the forest.

As I turned to flee there was a scream from my radio, and then it sparked suddenly in my hand and went dead. It didn't matter; I could hear the whine from here, and it was now joined by an ominous, powerful rumble that was building like an onrushing avalanche.

"Laura!" Vi's voice came from behind, and as I turned to face her a bolt struck a nearby tree. There was an explosion of splinters, and the remainder was reduced to a flaming carcass that fell ponderously to the floor, trailing soot and smoke. It hit the ground with a deafening crash, and then Vi vaulted over the top and rolled smoothly to her feet on the other side. Her glow was back, but it paled in comparison to the coruscating maelstrom tearing apart the forest behind her.

"Vi!" I shouted, struggling to be heard above the thunderous sounds of destruction, "What's going _on?_"

"Get down!" she screamed, as she sprinted towards me, "Cover your eyes and get _down!_"

She lunged forward and caught me in a rough tackle, bearing us both to the floor as a blazing branch swept overhead. From somewhere nearby I heard another tree come crashing down, and then-

"Brace yourself!"

-there was a sound that defied all description, and a sudden gale came scything through the forest. Vi tightened her grip and held me in a crushing embrace as we were picked up and tossed almost casually into a fallen tree. I heard a loud snap and Vi cried out in pain before she was wrenched from my grasp and carried off amongst a cloud of burning bark.

"Vi!" I struggled, but found myself pinned helplessly to the wood by howling winds. In the distance, the star suddenly collapsed to an unimaginably bright point and then exploded outwards in a searing shockwave that blasted every tree still standing to splinters. I closed my eyes and turned away as supersonic skewers hammered hard into the log and then the wave cannoned into me with all the unstoppable force of a freight train. Through the pain, I was dimly aware of the sounds of tearing, shattering wood, and then the wave passed, heading onwards through the forest towards the warehouse.

No longer pinned in place, I fell limply to the ground and lay there, gasping for breath. Every part of me ached like I'd been worked over by a gorilla, but somehow I was alive. Well, I was _pretty_ sure I was alive; maybe I was just in too much shock to realise that I'd been torn to shreds by a tornado of wooden shards. After a short while, though, the sound of uncertain birdsong filtered through my ears, and I slowly gathered the courage to sit up and take stock of the situation.

When I opened my eyes I stopped and stared. All around me was a gently glowing nimbus; _Vi_'_s_ nimbus, I realised, and caught in it were several wickedly sharp pieces of snapping, smoking wood. They twisted and turned gently in the light, as if caught in wet cement, and as I reached wonderingly to touch one it shuddered and fell to the ground with a loud clatter. The rest followed suit in a shower of skewers. As I scrambled away, I noticed that even the log I'd been pinned to was now dust, except for the almost perfectly circular section directly behind me. Whatever Vi had done, it had been pretty potent...but if she'd done that for _me, _then-

"Vi?" I breathed, and then got to my feet and cried out, "Vi! C'mon, where are you? _Vi_!"

My voice echoed through the silence as I took stock of my situation. The forest itself was...simply _gone_. What had been a verdant woodland filled with towering trees and thick green bushes was now a barren, smoking wasteland littered with piles of shattered driftwood and gently flaming stumps. All around, motes of blue and gold drifted in silent, lazy clouds, and again I thought back to the moment the storm had broken above the Blip Centre.

There was a weak groan from a nearby pile of ash, and when I rushed over I saw a coffee-coloured hand extending limply from the bottom.

"Vi!" I shouted, casting around desperately for something that could be used as a shovel, "Give me a sec! I'll dig you out!"

After a quick, fruitless search I returned and settled for digging her out with my bare hands. The hot, sooty soil bit at and burned my fingers, but I paid the pain no heed as I feverishly shovelled the soil away from her face and hands, my fear rising with every moment. No matter how much I moved, though, it didn't seem to be enough, and with a panicked cry I just grabbed her hand and wrenched as hard as I could. Mercifully, she came free with a shiver of hot ash and dust and I fell to my knees beside her, checking her over with half-remembered first-aid training.

As I worked, I felt my heart rise in my mouth. Even covered in soot she was clearly badly hurt; there were terrible, weeping cuts on her forehead and cheek, and her right arm was bent at a strange, unnatural angle. She had been peppered with shrapnel, too; her arms and legs were covered in splinters and burn marks, and a large piece of charred wood was deeply embedded in the side of her tactical vest.

"Vi!" I said, and clapped her firmly on the shoulders, "Can you hear me? Please tell me you're okay!"

Her eyes opened, achingly slowly, and she stared at me blankly for several long, painful moments before she suddenly heaved and then coughed spasmodically, spraying me down with a thick black mixture of soot, spittle, and phlegm.

"Laura?" she said eventually, once the fit had ended, "That's you, right?"

"I'm here, Vi," I said, and felt the tears welling up, "I'm here!"

"Good. Did you...get the number plate off those lorries? And that steamroller?"

"I-" I tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sob, "You shielded me, didn't you! Why?"

"'Cause you're my mate. It'd be a bit...shit if I let you burn."

"But what about _you_? You're hurt!"

"Am I? My word, I hadn't noticed," she said, with a wan, dry smile, "I follow a goddess of healing and protection, remember? Since I'm pretty sure I owe her one, I should be attempting to live up to her name. Besides...you have a family."

"So do _you!_" I said, and now the tears were racing down my cheeks, "You have Thera, his sister and your nieces and nephews! You said you were an aunt, right?"

"Technically...not until I get married," she said, "Thera's sister's kids, but I love them anyway."

"Then you're going to survive to _get_ married, and then you're never, _ever_ going to throw yourself under a bus for me again!" I said, and then the words came tumbling out, "I'm so sorry, Vi. I _should_ have gone home. If I hadn't come along then you wouldn't have had to shield me and-"

"Oh, sweetheart. Don't blame yourself," she said gently, and as I wept freely she pulled me in for a hug with her good hand, "And I'll be _fine_. I've had worse."

"_Really?_" I said, wiping away the tears with the back of my hand.

"Really," she said, "Just ask Thera."

"Thera? But he-" I looked over towards the centre of the explosion, and gasped, "Christ! Vi; Clint and Thera! They were-"

"We'll find them. Laura," Vi said, firmly, "Just help me up, will you?"

"_Can_ you stand?"

"I _have_ to stand, so I will," she said grimly, "No matter how much it hurts."

"Okay…" I said dubiously, and attempted to get a good position under her left shoulder, "Are you ready? One, two..._three-"_

Following my experiences with Thera, I'd expected Vi to be unusually heavy for her frame. As it turned out she was actually much lighter, but I was pretty sure I still felt something pop as I slowly helped her to her knees and then her feet. She staggered woozily for a moment while she got her balance, and then she waved me away.

"I'll be fine now," she said, "I think…"

Her voice trailed off as she surveyed the near-total destruction of the forest and the swirling clouds of glowing motes.

"Wow," she muttered, "Well, I suppose that's _one_ way to fall off the wagon."

"What happened?" I said, "_What happened_, Vi?"

"I'm...not sure," she said, and with a wince she gently cradled her broken arm, "But we're going to have to find out, and soon. There's no way this didn't go unnoticed."

"First things first, though. We need to find Clint!" I said, "Where are they? Where's Thera? You know where he is, right?"

"Well, knowing him he'll be right smack bang in the centre of it," she said, with a snort, "I think if he gets blown up one more time he gets a free coffee."

"So which way is that?" I asked irritably. Now that I'd stopped panicking over Vi, there was a growing sense of dread and despair building in the pit of my stomach. From the looks of it, we'd been near the _edge_ of the explosion. What were we going to find at the centre? Would there even be anything left?  
"Don't think like that," Vi said softly, "He'll be okay. I promise you."

"You 'promise'?"

"I promise," she said, and then nodded off into the smoke, "Over there. They'll be over there somewhere."

"Then we'd better get moving," I said shortly, "Do you need a hand?"

"Oh, don't worry about me!" she said, and gave me a brave, but bloodied smile, "I'll be right behind you."

"Don't lose sight of me," I said, and turned away to pick my way carefully through the scattered driftwood and smoking stumps. From behind me, I heard a faint groan, and then a long, deep sigh.

"Oh, my Sparky," Vi murmured, almost too quietly for me to hear, "What _have_ you done?"


	18. Chapter 18: Ground Zero

The devastation was absolute.

Back in the day, Clint and I had gone through a phase of watching post-apocalyptic movies and the pitiful lives of those unlucky enough to survive 'The End', eeking out a meagre living on scorched, irradiated lands. In the dark hours of the night I'd often wondered what it would've been like to be one of those survivors and now I thought I had a pretty good idea. It would have _sucked_.

The worst bit had to be the heat. Now no longer tamed by the rich forest canopy, the sun beat down mercilessly from on high, turning the once-green world into a shimmering furnace of indistinct, wavering shapes. Under my tactical vest I could feel my blouse sticking unpleasantly to my skin, and when I wrenched my helmet off I was rewarded with a shower of warm, stagnant sweat. I ached for shade, or anything that could cool me off, but there simply wasn't any to be found.

Even so, the heat might have been bearable if it weren't for the _smoke_. Thick, acrid clouds poured from flaming stumps and crackling heaps of shattered wood, and tugged at my throat and stung my eyes. There were points that it got so bad that I was reduced to feeling around desperately for something to cling onto and guide my way, even crawling amongst the ashes to avoid breathing the worst of it in.

Still, if _I_ had it bad, I was becoming increasingly concerned about Vi. She trudged stoically along behind me, clutching at her arm and bleeding profusely from the injuries on her head, and at times it seemed like she was only vaguely aware of the world around her. Her face had acquired an unhealthy grey pallor, too, and although she gave me a brave smile whenever she thought I was watching, it didn't take long before it faded back into a pain-laced grimace. From time to time I tried to offer her some assistance, or at the very least a shoulder to lean on, but each time I was irritably rebuffed. Whether it was pride or simple bull-headedness, she was obviously either going to find Thera under her own steam or die in the attempt.

Between my tortured muscles and Vi's obvious wounds, it took us a lot longer than I would've thought to reach the centre. We moved cautiously through the ominously silent ruins of the forest, scrambling carefully over toppled branches and through piles of ash and clouds of glowing motes. With every step, my battered, bruised body screamed and protested, and I was sure that over the coming days I was going to have an absolutely _marvellous _collection of cuts and bruises. Enough to drive Coop around the bend, for sure.

Eventually we caught a break. As we got closer to our goal, the scattered wood gave way to a shifting field of ash, vanishing into the haze, and then even _that _gave way to a layer of hard, fired earth that cracked under our feet like cheap pottery.

"Gettin' close," Vi murmured, and gestured to a small, shadowy hillock up ahead, "That's the edge of the crater."  
"I'll go and have a look," I replied, and before she could reply I scrambled up to the edge. The crater wasn't enormous; a bowl maybe five meters across, but it was filled with a brightly glowing sea of the same blue and gold motes that were drifting across the blasted earth. They licked and curled at the sides of the crater, constantly shifting in a strangely hypnotic pattern, and as I crouched down to inspect them more closely I could hear a very faint buzzing, right on the end of hearing. The sweat-slicked hair on the back of my neck suddenly stood up on end.

"Careful. Don't want to fall in," Vi said, and I felt a firm grip on my shoulder, "But..._that's_ interesting. Didn't expect to find them here."

"What's 'interesting'?" I said, "What _are_ these things, Vi?"

"Residue. They're a sign that _someone_ hasn't got their head in the game."

"I heard what you said earlier. Do you really think _Thera_ did this?"

"I'd love to say 'no', but who else is there?" she shrugged, "Besides, these things are like fingerprints. They're unique from person to person, and these are _definitely _Sparky's."

"They're very pretty," I said, "Are they dangerous?"

"No, at least not the ones we've walked through. Those down there _might_ give you a zap, but I'd personally be more worried about breaking your neck from the fall," she stepped around me, closer to the edge, and then suddenly shuddered, "Goddess; there's that feeling again! My whole body's tingling!"

"That device?"

"Must be," she nodded.

"You think it's down there?"

"No idea," she said, "'Can't see through all Sparky's rubbish. He really needs to clean up after himself!"

"What if they were drawn here by it?" I looked down at the motes drifting randomly across the wasteland, and then added, "Is that possible?"

"Um...maybe, actually. Good shout, Laura," she smiled approvingly, "But for it to have survived that blast? It'd have to be made of some _seriously_ tough stuff. In any case-" she scanned the horizon, "-we're not here for that right now. We're here for _that_."

She pointed, slowly, with her good arm, and through the heatwaves I could just about make out a small, golden dome, half-buried under a pile of baked soil and ash that actually looked like a pretty good makeshift shelter.

"There they are!" she said triumphantly, "See?"

"Oh, thank goodness," I said, and exhaled, "And you're _sure_ Clint's okay?"

"Sparky's shields make mine look like cheap tissue paper," she said, "They'll probably be a little beaten up, maybe a bit deafened, but almost certainly better off than everyone else - including us."

"We'd better get moving, then!" I paused, as a thought hit me, "Actually, where _is _'everyone else'? I thought there'd be some corpses, but I haven't seen anyone."

"Oh, you've seen 'em alright," she said, with a grim little chuckle, "You just didn't recognise them when you were breathing them in."

"That's disgusting!" I said, and coughed reflexively, "I...ugh!"

"No different to being Snapped, when you think about it."

"I'd rather _not_ think about it!" I said forcefully, "I _thought_ that by now we'd have finished our chat at the Blip Centre, have grabbed the Master List, and _maybe _be on our way to find Alvin and get him back to his parents! Instead-"

"-I know," she said, "But that's life for you."

"_Your_ life, maybe, but not mine! All this death and destruction... how do you get used to it?"

"You want my advice?" she gave me a serious look, "Don't, just don't. It's not worth it."

With that Vi abruptly turned and half walked, half-skidded back down from the crater's edge. I gave the sea of buzzing motes a final, wondering look, and then followed suit. She remained silent as we quickly worked our way around the side of the hillock, although whether she was lost in thought or just battling against the pain I had no idea.

The golden dome was a little larger than it had seemed from the top, and it crackled and hummed with barely restrained energy. It looked somewhat the worse for wear, too; there were several bright, sparking cracks, and as we approached a deep blue bolt leapt from one and buried itself in the nearby ground with a loud _'crack'_ and a puff of smoke.

"I'd stay back if I were you. Those bite," Vi said, and indicated several small pockmarks littering the ground, "I'll get him to turn it off."

She picked her way carefully across the landscape, her head cocked as if listening to something beyond my range of hearing. When she reached the shell she knocked out a brief staccato rhythm on the shell, twice, and then beckoned me over as it dissolved into a sparkling mist. As the light finally cleared I saw my husband was lying on the ground, limp and unmoving, and felt a sudden stab of terror. Thera was knelt over him, inspecting his face with a curious look in his eyes, but jumped back suddenly as I came charging in like a bowling ball.

"Clint!" I cried, and knelt down next to him. He was breathing, but didn't stir as I clapped him on the shoulders, "Clint! Oh, Christ!"

"_Laura? _Vi_?_" Thera looked quickly at his fiancee and then leapt to his feet, "Goddess, you're hurt!"

"I'm okay-" she protested momentarily, but sagged gratefully into his arms as he helped her to the floor, cradling her head in his lap, "-oooh, _that_ made the world spin..."

"I'm not surprised! Lacerations, burns, shrapnel wounds, a broken arm, _and_ a mild concussion? What in the world were you trying to _accomplish_?"

"We were _trying _to save your asses!" I said, coming fiercely to her defence, "And we were doing great until you _blew everything up_! What the _hell_ have you done to my husband, Thera?"

"Nothing- wait, hold on!" Thera gave us a confused look, "You think _I'm_ responsible for that explosion?"

"Aren't you?"

"No!"

"So who _is_, then?" I asked hotly, "Because Vi was pretty sure it was you, you know!"

"Really? Oh, come on!" Thera glared at his fiancee, "I'm not my sister!"

"Your fingerprints _were _kind of all over it, sweetie," she murmured, "Didn't you see the explosion?"

"No! When I realised what was happening I dumped everything I had into keeping us safe. Transparent shielding would've risked flash burns."

"Well, it was spectacular, and there's a ton of residue out there. _Your_ residue." Vi said, "The explosion crater's filled with it."

"You're joking."

"Why does everyone suddenly think I'm a comedian? I'm serious!"

"...fine," Thera ran his fingers over his hat, "That makes absolutely no sense, but fine! I mean, it doesn't leave me with a defence aside from 'I didn't do it', but I didn't!"

"Hey, hey; it's okay," Vi smiled gently as she reached up to touch his face, "If you say you didn't do it, I believe you. Why don't you just tell us what happened, then?"

"And what's going on with Clint?" I said urgently, "Why is he unconscious?"

"Ah, um...well," Thera looked slightly pained, "Let's just say that my attempts to keep him safe weren't... an _entirely_ unqualified success. He's sustained some internal injuries, particularly to his lungs-"

"_What?_"

"-and since I'm not sure _what's _in that explosion I'm also checking him out for signs of radiation poisoning and carcinogens. Don't want him getting sick, after all."

"Radiation? Cancer?" I said anxiously, "Thera, I've been out there! I've breathed some of it in!"

"Along with the charred remains of half a dozen mercs," Vi remarked. Thera gave her an arch look and flicked her gently on the forehead.

"We all have, Laura," he said reassuringly, "And I'm sure _you'll_ be fine, too, but I want to be completely certain. I'll bring him 'round once everything's sorted out."

"And how long is _that _going to take?"

"Hold on," Thera swiped at the air just above his left forearm and squinted at a patch of nothing, "Um...two hours and fourteen minutes."

"That's precise," I said, and sat back against the hardened soil outcropping, "Christ. What a day…"

"That doesn't sound promising. Did something happen at the Blip Centre?"

"Did something happen? Oh, something happened alright," I laughed sardonically, "Vi, you wanna tell him about the Blip Centre? It got kinda exciting."

"Kostas and Summers sold us out," Vi said, "I-"

"Hold on, love," Thera said, and he shifted his weight slightly, "I've _got_ to do something about these injuries of yours. You just keep talking, and I'll work."

I sat there, holding Clint's hand and interjecting occasionally as Vi described our adventures at the Blip Centre. Thera listened intently, his face a picture of tender concern as he carefully attended to his fiancee's wounds. The weeping cuts went first, vanishing under a warm golden light as he drew two fingers lightly over the injuries. From there he moved onto her arm, and after staring hard into the palm of his hand he got a firm grip on either side of her elbow and twisted hard. There was a bright flash and Vi yelped in pain, but a moment later she gave it an experimental flex and smiled appreciatively. The remaining injuries were taken care of by a small cloud of little yellow specks which rolled and danced over her skin, yanking out deeply buried splinters and restoring blistered skin to its original pristine state. By the time the last one winked out there was no sign that she'd ever even been hurt.

"...and that's when everything exploded," she finished, and relaxed with a sigh, "Fun, right?"

"I have to admit, I do _love_ the feeling of being back at square one," Thera said ruefully, "But on the bright side, it explains why Reservist Laura here isn't freaking out as much as I thought she would."

"Just because I live out in the middle of nowhere doesn't mean that I haven't experienced 'weird', I said tartly, "You know I once had the Incredible Hulk sleeping in my spare bedroom, right? He shared it with _Thor_."

"That must have been...nervous."

"It had its upsides," I sighed wistfully, "That image of Rogers chopping wood has kept me warm on some cold nights."

"You should've sold tickets, Laura," said Vi, "It was very selfish of you to keep that to yourself."

"I think Clint might've had something to say about that," I snorted, "But seriously, I get why Strange was so worried about you. You've seen how they're already deifying Stark, right? If you started randomly healing people in the street, you'd probably get people claiming you were the Second Coming."

"Or try to burn us at the stake," said Thera, "We've been down that road before."

"Lots of times!" added Vi, brightly, "It's basically a coin toss."

"But what about the Blip Centre?" I frowned, "How did nobody cotton on there?"

"I think I might've mentioned it before, but none of them are sick. At least not physically," said Thera, "Two thousand people and not a cold amongst 'em, and that's saying nothing about the ones who Blipped with serious illnesses. Brain cancer, diabetes, multiple sclerosis…? All gone. No sign."

"_Really_?"

"You spent five years on a tour of the upper stratosphere and your stumbling block is that someone's pancreas is working again?" Thera grinned, "Banner didn't just bring us back; he brought us back '_safe'_. My best guess is that the 'Stones decided to interpret that wish as generously as possible...you know, like a genie that actually does what you bloody want."

"So they _fixed_ us?"

"Fixed us, moved people around-"

"-dumped us in a Missouri cornfield for a laugh-" Vi piped up.

"-and generally tried to get people out of serious harm's way," he said, "I gotta say, it was a good wish."

"Miraculous, yeah," I agreed, "But how far did it go?"

"Who can say?" Thera said, and suddenly pinned me with a penetrating stare, "I guess it depends how much danger they're in."

"And maybe the 'Stones decided _we _needed a holiday," Vi sighed, and snuggled down a little deeper, "They're not wrong, you know."

"Hah. Maybe…" he paused, "Oh, Laura - you might know this one. Who're the 'Chitauri'?"

"You don't know who the Chitauri are?" I said, "_Really?_"

His brow furrowed irritably, "I asked, didn't I?"

"They invaded Manhattan! Don't you remember the Battle of New York?"

Vi coughed, "We were...probably busy that day."

"They opened a massive portal! It was in the news for _months!_"

"A big, swirly sky-portal?" something seemed to connect in Vi's head, "Oh, wait, I remember now! We call those CADs."

"CADs?"

"Cosmic Arsehole Dispensers," she said, "'Cause everytime one opens, whatever comes through is _guaranteed_ to be an arsehole. Even if it's a choir of actual, literal angels."

"It was raining feathers for _days_," Thera said, "Yeah, those were all the rage about five years ago. Couldn't bloody move for some harebrained idiot's attempt to punch a hole through to another part of space. Could've been worse, though. Remember the time it was just a CA?"

"Goddess!" Vi shuddered, "I was in the shower for _weeks._ I thought I'd never be clean again."

"Bumper harvest that year, though. Great headlines too. My sister got the one of you framed."

"She _would_."

"That's...great," I said, "But why're you asking?"

"Because they were carrying a strange gun that gave me a real case of pins and needles, and Clint said it was called a 'Chitauri Blaster'. Fired a-"

"-purple bolt?"

"Oh, so you saw it?"

"Right before everything exploded. They were calling it the 'Contingency'."

"Good contingency," he said sourly, "It packed a flipping punch, let me tell you. The damage it did to my shields is part of the reason why our Clint here needs his lungs rebuilding."

"I think there's still bits of it in the crater," Vi said, "I wouldn't go too close if I were you."

"I think it'll be fine; it's what was _powering_ it that concerns me," Thera gave me a serious look, "I only thought Stark knew how to compress that much power into such a small form factor."

"You think it was being powered by an Arc Reactor?"

"Or a knockoff. We've seen knockoff Mufflers, so why not knockoff reactors?"

"I don't think an Arc Reactor is something you can just 'knock off', Thera," I said dubiously, "Even if you had the plans you're dealing with something based off the Tesseract; that's an Infinity Stone! If it went sideways-"

"-you might end up blowing a huge hole in the middle of a forest?" Thera looked around, "Just a thought."

"But they'd have safeties, right?"

"The originals did, I'm sure. Did _any_ of Stark's suits go up like this?"

"Of course not!"

"Didn't think so," he said, "Anyway, at the moment it's just a theory, but if someone really _is_ manufacturing off-brand Stark weapons tech... then we _might_ be in a bit more danger than I thought."

Before I could press further, he suddenly frowned and looked sharply out into the shimmering heat.

"That being said, I think we might have a more immediate problem."

"What?" Vi said, and sat up in a single smooth motion, "What's the matter?"

"Well, an enormous explosion goes off in Missouri, only a couple of miles away from the Blip Centre, and apparently bearing _my_ signature? I guess it's ruffled a few cloaks," said Thera, and pointed, "Here comes trouble."

* * *

With fear slowly climbing in my throat, I stared hard into the wavering furnace as I tried to see what it was that had gotten Thera's attention. A moment later I spotted it; a small, swirling yellow light in the middle distance, almost invisible against the dust and smoke.

"Wait a second," said Vi, cautiously, "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you think it's Doctor Strange's alternative to public transport, then yes," Thera said, and gave her a worried look, "This is going to be... awkward."

"If it's not your fault, it's not your fault. We just have to make him see reason."

"Yeah, sure, and after that maybe we can turn our attention to solving world hunger?"

The light irised open just as it had back at the Blip Centre and Doctor Strange emerged, blinking, into the sun. He stopped suddenly, clearly stunned by the extent of the devastation, and then turned and beckoned back through the portal. Two more figures emerged, a man and a woman, and as a group they immediately started heading in our direction.

"Ah, nuts," Thera said tensely, "Three of them? This looks serious."

"Yup," Vi agreed, "'Counterthaumic suite?"

"Definitely. I'm warming it up now."

"Great. Where's my rifle? Clint had it, right?"

"Yeah. It's over there," Thera pointed to the long, matte-black weapon lying on the floor. Vi picked it up, gave it a careful once-over, and then slung it across her back.

"Better to have it and not need it..." she said, "C'mon, dear, let's go meet the good doctor."

"I should come-" I began, but Vi cut me off.

"Oh no, Laura," she said, "If this turns ugly I want you here, where it's safe."

"But-"

With a crunch of dirt, the two got to their feet and headed out into the heat. I watched them go, and then looked at my husband. What would _he_ have done? Probably have gone out there and charmed the birds from the trees with that roguish, laid back attitude of his. _Those _two, though…?

"_You know how this is going to end, don't you," _said my little voice, _"Badly."_

"You don't know that," I said, as I carefully brushed back Clint's damn mohawk. Mercifully, it seemed like it was starting to grow out a bit.

"_Don't I? Thera and Vi have been wary of Strange since the start, and now I'm _pretty_ sure Strange thinks he's now caught them red handed. One false move from either side and you'll be lucky to end up with a hairstyle like Clint's."_

"What do you want _me_ to do about it? They could all squash me like a bug!"

"_Yeah, but none of them _want_ to. It's that split-second of hesitation that Vi was talking about earlier. You could do a lot in that time."_

"I-"

"_You'd be protecting Clint, too," _the voice pressed, _"Like you wanted to."_

"Well...I guess I _have_ come this far," I sighed, and kissed my husband on the forehead, "Don't go anywhere, hon. It's time for me to do something stupid."

As I scrambled out from under the little mound, I realised that the situation was worse than I'd thought. In a strange way, it felt almost like a showdown at high noon; the blistering heat, the gently sighing wind...and the way the air crackled with tension as the two groups surveyed each other from a cautiously respectful distance. With Strange was a shorter, serious-looking man of Chinese descent dressed in a plain brown smock, belted at the waist, and a woman whose face was hidden under a cowl despite the heat. Both were visibly armed with heavy-looking quarterstaves and carried about them an air of cool determination. If they were intimidated by what they'd seen they didn't show it, and despite the outdated clothes and even _more_ outdated weaponry I was pretty sure that these were amongst the most dangerous people I'd ever met.

"What are you _doing?"_ hissed Vi, as I caught up with the pair, "Go back to Clint!"

"I'm staying here," I said firmly, and she gave me a disbelieving stare.

"You're kidding, right? Or have we accidentally awoken an adrenaline junkie?"

"You need me."

"As what, a human shield?" her words were harsh, but I could see the worry in her eyes, "_Please_, Laura."

Before I could reply Strange stepped forward and fixed Thera with a penetrating stare, and I felt a sudden chill as their gazes met.

"Good afternoon, Strange," Thera said evenly, "Didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"I didn't expect to have to be _back_ here so soon," replied Strange, "I'd thought I'd made it _pretty _clear that your continued presence was only welcome on the basis that that you kept your head down, exercised some self-control and stopped affecting-"

"-local weather patterns. I remember, yeah."

"Good. I was worried you might've missed the subtext of our conversation."

"Hold on," I said, "So when you were asking Thera to track down that 'entity', you were asking him to track down _himself_?"

"Kind of hard to blackmail me if he gives you the whole story, right?" Thera said, and gave me an apologetic look, "Bet it seems kind of obvious in hindsight."

"That storm was _your_ fault? Do you have any idea how much _mud_ I got coated in?"

"It wasn't deliberate!" he protested, "I was having a bloody nervous breakdown!"

"Ah, Laura," Strange said, apparently spotting me for the first time, "Yet _again_, you've somehow managed to end up in the centre of events. Quite a talent you have there."

"Tell me about it," growled Vi.

"And Six, of course," said the doctor, "Clint mentioned your fiancee, Thera, but I didn't realise that it was _you_ two who were engaged. I suppose I should offer my belated congratulations."

"Six?" I said.

"It's an old callsign," Vi said, dismissively, "'Went out the window a decade ago, along with the man who coined it."

"He didn't bounce," Thera added, "You, uh, could say he reached his 'ground state'."

"So let's go with 'Viola', shall we Strange?" she pointed at his two companions, "And these guys are…?"

"Of course. Where _are_ my manners?" Strange smiled and turned to introduce the serious- looking man, "This is Master Wong, and _this_ is Master Minoru, of the Hong Kong Sanctum."

"Wotcha, guys," Thera held up a hand in greeting, "So now we're all caught up, what can we do for you?"

Minoru stepped forward to join Strange, and threw back her cowl as she did so. Her expression was determined, but not _immediately_ aggressive, "We'd like to talk."

"Okay, great," said Vi curtly, "Put down the weapons, and we'll talk."

Minoru and Wong gave each other a quick look, and then as one threw their quarterstaves to the side. The wooden weapons clattered on the hard ground, but the echo was quickly swallowed up by the almost oppressive silence.

"Satisfied?"

"_Blissfully_."

"Very well," Minoru said, "Having met with Strange and discussed his visions, we believe that you two have enormous potential. However…"

"This has to stop," said Wong, simply, "We cannot allow further..._events_ like this."

"Like this?" Thera said, "This wasn't our fault."

"We were attacked!" added Vi.

"It's true," I said, and Strange's gaze flicked over to me for just a second, "There were a good thirty mercenaries, Strange. Where do you think I got this bulletproof vest from?"

"So...this was a defensive measure?" he said, "It seems a bit extreme for thirty mercenaries. Even for you two."

"It wasn't an _anything_ measure!" Vi said, "We didn't cause the explosion!"

"Oh? Perhaps it was the one-armed man, instead?" Strange smiled, "We detected a large mystical spike, matching the signature of the storm over the Blip Centre, and when we arrived here we found...this-" he gestured at the shimmering wasteland, "-and you expect us to believe they _aren't _related?"

"Admittedly...no," Thera smiled weakly, "It's a bit of a hard sell."

"That's what I thought," Strange gave his colleagues a triumphant smile, "Sparky? Six? I'm afraid to say that unless you can give me an _exceptionally_ good reason why you're not to blame for this...devastation, then we would have to consider you a mystical threat. To do any less would be negligence."

"Hold on," said Vi, "The attackers brought some kind of energy weapon with them. A _Chitauri_ energy weapon."

"I was at the Battle of New York, Six. There were a lot of Chitauri weapons there," Strange said, "And the fact that there's still a New York at _all_ suggests that one of those weapons wasn't responsible for this destruction."

"Really? Because that weapon had an _awful_ lot of energy tied up in it."

"It really did," Thera nodded, "I haven't taken a hit like that in years."

"And maybe the Chitauri are just better at handling their own guns. Or it could be a security measure."

"That seems...tenuous," said Strange, "And it doesn't explain why Sparky's signature was tied up in the explosion."

"Yeah, _that's _a mystery. Can't help you there."

"Maybe Clint could, though?" I said, "When he recovers consciousness, that is."

"Is he injured?" Strange looked suddenly concerned, "We could portal him to-"

"I have him under observation," Thera said, and looked down for just a moment, "He's fine. Just a slight wobble on blood oxygen levels."

"Well, this brings us back to why we want to talk to you," said Minoru, "As I said before, we recognise that you're talented, powerful individuals who have a great deal of potential-"

"-at least _someone_ recognises that-" Vi muttered.

"-_but_ you are also a chaotic, highly destabilising influence. Strange was concerned about the effect that your presence might have on Missouri and beyond, and having seen this I have no real reason to doubt him."

"This may not be your fault," added Wong, "But your enemies are clearly escalating."

"So take it up with them!" Vi retorted, "Go pay Keame a little visit and tell _him_ to keep the noise down!"

"Do you have _proof_ that it was him?"

"It's anecdotal, but-"

"-then there's nothing we can do. We do not meddle in worldly affairs."

"Wong is right, Six," said Strange, "Our remit is strictly limited to confronting _mystical_ threats to the planet."

"Of course it is," she said, with a glassy smile, "And given your recent performance in _that _arena, I suppose we should be grateful that you're unwilling to diversify."

"So where does this leave us?" said Thera, "I'm guessing nowhere good."

"I assure you that we don't want a fight, Sparky," Minoru said, and Thera rolled his eyes, "However, we _would_ like you to come with us while we resolve this matter. For your protection, as much as anything else."

"Wait," I said, quickly, "Hold on-"

"You think we need protection?" Vi said challengingly, and I felt the tension climb another notch.

"You were attacked today, Six. Twice," said Wong, "We also detected activity at the Blip Centre. This could happen again. What happens if it happens in a city?"

"The casualties would be... incalculable," Strange added, quite seriously, "And that's saying nothing of the fallout. Missouri really _would_ go up in flames."

"Wait a second!" I said, "I _need _their help! There are children in the Blip Centres-"

"Who'd suffer horrendously if events deteriorated," Strange over smoothly, "Your intentions are very noble, Laura, but we can't risk further upset."

"So you would rather let people languish in a _de facto_ refugee camp than rock the boat?" Thera flared, "Do you have any idea how dangerous refugee camps are for kids? Really, _bloody_ dangerous!"

"As dangerous as a breakdown in law and order?" Strange countered, "You've gotten too emotionally involved."

"And _your_ problem is that you're not emotionally involved _enough!_ I'm sure it's very easy to sit in Kamar-Taj and talk serenely about 'risk management' and how we must all be patient when you don't know anyone involved, but _you_ don't have to comfort these kids when their parents don't turn up day after day after _flipping_ day!"

"Then might I advise you to stop acting like a first year medic and set some professional boundaries?"

"Professional boundaries?You mean like the kind of boundaries _you _established when you tossed 'uninteresting' cases out on the scrapheap?"

"This isn't helpful," Minoru said, and then she leaned over and whispered something in Strange's ear. The doctor frowned for a moment and then turned back to Thera.

"She's right. We aren't gaining anything from this."

"No, I suppose not," Thera conceded, "But you know I'm right."

"How about a compromise, then?" offered Strange, "If you agree to come quietly, then I promise that I will _personally_ attend to any and all problems that you have encountered during your time here. If Keame is up to something I assure you I will use every bit of influence I can bring to bear to ensure he's stopped, _and _assist Laura in her goal of reuniting families broken by Thanos."

"And why would you do all that?" I said, sharply, "You pulled out all the stops to help the Bulgakovs, and now _this_? What's in it for you?"

There was a momentary, uncomfortable silence.

"You're right. There _is _another factor," Minoru admitted, "The year before the Snap, a dissident faction destroyed one of our Sanctums. It weakened the protective barrier around the Earth, and since then we've had a number of... attempted breaches."

"Some have succeeded," added Wong, "The cost of driving them back was high."

Minoru inclined her head towards her fellow Master, "Exactly. The Snap only made matters worse by halving our number, and with the Sorcerer Supreme dead as well we were driven almost to destruction. We're training replacements now, but..."

"I think I see where this is going," said Vi, "My goodness, we've been groomed more today than a prize showpony."

"Six, while you and your fiance may lack finesse, you have the raw power necessary to confront and defeat entities that could kill half a dozen Masters," Minoru went on, "With our oversight and guidance, you could give us the breathing space necessary to rebuild the London Sanctum and our numbers-"

"-while we assist Laura with her project," said Strange, "You and I both trained as medics, Sparky, but I realised that there are _other_ ways to save lives. They might be harder, or weirder, but-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Thera held up a hand, "And...what would we do when we're not up to our arses in angry, soul-stealing tentacles?"

"You would stay in Kamar-Taj," said Strange, "You'd be given everything you needed; equipment, entertainment…"

"But we'd be allowed out, right?" Vi said urgently, "We could leave if we wanted?"

"Not until things have cooled down, no," said Strange, "Regardless of your potential, you are still a chaotic influence. We just want to..._channel_ that to where it can do the most good."

"So it's a cage," she said, and for the first time I heard a genuine note of fear in her voice, "You're caging us."

"Hardly, Six-"

"Okay, let's just get something straight, shall we?" she said, in a voice that was suddenly both fearful and furious, "That nickname that you're so fond of using? It was given to me when I was twelve, by a group of evil, _evil_ bastards who took me away from everyone I loved and imprisoned me in a dark, culty training facility. To them? I wasn't a young girl, I was just number 'six' of fifty guinea pigs, and over the next six years I watched my 'classmates' get picked off one by one while they tried to channel our potential! Never again, Strange! I am _never_ letting that happen to me again-"

She fell silent, suddenly, and Thera moved quickly to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. Our gazes met for just a moment, and in his eyes I saw a haunting mix of compassion and helplessness before he turned back to his fiancee. I took a long, deep breath, and to my surprise saw Strange doing much the same.

"I assure you...Viola. Kamar-Taj is not a 'dark, culty training facility'," he said in a soft, almost gentle voice, "You would be our _guests_, not our prisoners."

"A gilded cage is still a cage, Strange!" she shouted tearfully, and my heart went out to her, "I am _not_ going to be locked away just to be used as a scarecrow for unpronounceable horrors!"

"_I won't let that happen, Ell, I promise,"_ Thera whispered soothingly, almost too quietly for me to hear. He turned back to Strange, "Sorry, mate, but...no. It'd be inhumane."

"Yeah," Strange nodded slowly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't know. How _could_ you have known?"

"But as you said before, where does this leave us? We can't back down, you realise. Not considering what's at stake."

"Then it was absolutely _lovely _knowing you," said Vi. In a flash, she'd unslung her rifle from her back and operated the bolt with a dangerous 'cla-click', "I do hope you're not counting on your magic protecting you; I basically wrote the book on counterthaumic combat."

"Hold on, Vi!" I said urgently, "Don't do anything rash-"

"I'm not!" she snarled, "I'm _not_ going back."

"You aren't _going_ back!" I said, "Please! Thera, tell her-"

"What options do we have left, Laura?" Thera said, "You got any good ones? I can't let them take Vi, and unless Strange is willing to leave us alone we're kind of stuck._ Unless…_"

He trailed off, but I felt his gaze lingering on me.

"Well, I-" I paused, "This is _insane_!"

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," said Strange, and raised his arms into a threatening position. The other Masters did likewise, and a dangerous thrum filled the air, "If we can't cooperate, then you _are_ a threat."

"Is the CTS ready, Sparky?" Vi said, "Guess we're gonna need it after all."

"_This is it, Laura. I told you it was going to end badly," _said the voice, _"What're you going to do?"_

"Ready to go," he said, "Not sure how long I can jam out _these_ three, but if nothing else it'll be a fun surprise."

"Okay, Strange first, then Minoru. I want that cowl."

"Really? After all those complaints about my hats?"

"Your hats are terrible. That cowl is cool."

"I guess this is it, then," said Strange, and his eyes flicked briefly in my direction, "It's a pity; I had high hopes for you."  
"And in your next life, I hope you learn to let sleeping dragons lie," said Vi, "Laura? Get back!"

"I-" I started.

"_Now_!"

"_Last chance!"_

"But-"

"Laura!" Vi said, her voice rising to a bark, "You'd better move-"

"_STOP!_"

Both sides recoiled in shock as my scream echoed across the desert sands, and for a fleeting moment I got a deep feeling of satisfaction as uncertainty flickered through the air. It wasn't going to last, though; I only had a half-second in which to act, and if I wasted it I wouldn't get another.

"I said _stop!_" I repeated, and before anyone could make a move I strode forward and planted myself firmly between the two groups, "This is madness!"

"Sweetie?" Vi said, a little unwisely, "When I said to move, I didn't mean _into_ my line of fire-"

"Be _quiet_, Vi!" I snapped, and was amazed when she actually quailed under my gaze, "I have had _enough_ of all of you talking over my head as if I don't exist! Sure, I might not be-" I pointed at Vi and Thera, "-whatever the hell it is _you _are, and I _definitely_ don't have _your_-" I gave Strange and his colleagues a sharp look, "-arcane knowledge, dual degrees and amazing cheekbones, but that doesn't actually seem to matter because despite all of that _all _of you are missing the _goddamn_ point!"

There was a long silence, and then Strange said, "...which is what, Laura?"

"That you're _both right!_" I shouted, and spun back around to face Thera and Vi, "I mean, I am _so_ sorry for what happened, but the truth is I never _knew_ chaos until I met you! Since then, I've had a fight with a torturer, a _knife _fight with a Blip Supremacist, and now Clint's hurt and _I'm_...-" I slapped the front of my tactical vest, and Vi winced, "-I'm wearing a bulletproof vest and standing in a landscape that looks like it's come straight from one of Coop's video games! If that damn crater started spewing aliens or radioactive scorpions I don't think I'd even bat a damn eyelid!"

Vi stared at me silently, and I felt a wrench as I saw the mixture of pain and guilt in her eyes.

"I think you mean 'radscorpion'," Strange smiled slightly, "But I'm glad that you agree with us-"

"But I _don't!_ Which part of 'you're both right' was causing you problems, Strange?" I said, and was rewarded with a look of faint surprise, "Look; after the Blip my rage rage and denial fuelled this... self-destructive spiral. If these two hadn't come along and kicked me out of it I don't _know_ what would have happened!"

"Well-"

"And it's not just that! Before the Blip I was just sleepwalking through life. I was happy, sure, but I was in a rut so deep I didn't even realise there was anything more out there for me! But now…"

"You're wearing a bulletproof vest and imagining being eaten by radscorpions?"

"I'm doing _something_! Something _meaningful!_ Look, Clint and the kids thought I was happy, and because they loved me they didn't want to rock the boat. _I_ thought I was happy, too, but _these _two just kept kicking my ass until I realised just how much I was missing out on! Do you think you could have accomplished that from Kamar-Taj? Would you even be aware it was going on?"

He gave me a flat look, "No, of course not."

"And would you have cared? Or would you rather have not 'rocked the boat'?"

"Now hold on, Laura," he said abruptly, "That's not fair-"

"Isn't it?" I said, "How am I different from one of the kids at the Blip Centre? These two might be a bit chaotic, but at least they _care_. They care a _hell _of a lot, even for people who they barely know!"

"If you'll recall, Laura, I've _always_ thought that they meant well. I even stated that Thera had 'benign intentions' the first time I met him. That doesn't mean that we can ignore the consequences of their actions."

"'The road to hell is paved with good intentions'?"

"Indeed."

"But maybe it's not their intentions that lead there. Maybe it's _yours_."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're trying to control everything, Strange. Believe me-" I smiled wryly, "-I know that need. But what if you're trying to control something that's just _too_ big to you to handle? Your attempts to keep a lid on this situation could be what causes Missouri to go up in flames."

"'A person often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it'," said Wong. Strange gave him a sharp look, "What? I _was_ the librarian."

"So...what are you thinking, Wong? We should let these two run amok?"

"Maybe not 'amok'," Wong inclined his head and lowered his voice, "But you know my opinion, Strange. We don't want to fight them."

"Not if it can be avoided," agreed Minoru, "I genuinely believe we can find a way to work together."

"That's the point!" I said, with some exasperation, "You _need_ each other!"

"Hang on a tick, Laura," Thera said quickly, "Before you start pimping us out to creepy ancient organisations, can you at _least _consult us first?"

"Yeah," said Vi, "I'm allergic to beard wax, and that guy's a walking candle."

"You know I'm right, guys!" I said, "You've lost everything to the Blip! Your friends, your family, your support network? Strange has that!"

"Yes, but he also has an ego that eclipses entire suns," she retorted, and I heard Wong snort quietly.

"That's true," I said, and the doctor gave me an unfriendly look, "Butbeing at each other's throats isn't helping anyone! If you get turned into a frog, how are you helping Poppy or Alvin?"

"Seriously, you have to lose this frog obsession," Vi said darkly.

"Okay, Laura, let's say you're right," said Strange, "How do you propose we stop everything falling apart?"

"We don't," Thera cut in, "We _can't_. Not if it means turning a blind eye to Keame's victims and everyone who's suffering thanks to the Blip. We have to do right by them. _All_ of them."

"_Fīat jūstitia ruat cælum,"_ intoned Wong.

"Hey, you'd better not be-"

"It's Latin, not magic!" Strange said quickly, "'Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall'. Do what's right, no matter the consequences. Just how many of those books _did _you read, Wong?"

"All of them," said Wong.

"He's right, Strange. We need to let go," said Minoru, "Isn't that what the Ancient One taught us? We can't control this. We can't control _them_."

"Not even the great Doctor Stephen Strange."

"Throwing her words back at me, Wong?" Strange said sourly.

"She was wiser than all of us. You should be paying attention."

"Okay," Strange turned back to me, "Can you excuse us, Laura? I need a second to think. Just...a second."

* * *

The three Masters turned away and walked a short distance out into the shimmering heat to confer. I watched them go, and slowly exhaled a breath that I hadn't even realised I'd been holding.

"You're both right…" I muttered to myself. For some reason, that seemed significant, "You _need_ each other…"

From behind me there came a short, disbelieving laugh, and I turned to see Thera running his hand over his hat.

"Phew!" he chuckled, "That got a bit hairy, didn't it?"

"A _bit hairy_?" I said, "You guys were at each other's throats! If I hadn't intervened then-"

"They would've called our bluff. I have to say, Laura, you really took it down to the wire!"

"Our bluff? We were _bluffing_?" I paused, and then corrected myself, "_You_ were bluffing?"

"You think we _really _wanted to fight three Masters?"

"But- I- Vi!" I stopped, collected myself, and tried again, "It was an _act?_"

"An am-dram _tour de force_, I'd say."

"All right, all right," Vi said irritably, "Strange gave me everything I needed to work with."

"But it...you!" I said, and then felt a sudden pulse of anger, "I felt _sorry_ for you!"

"That's because you're a good person," said Vi, "And so is Strange, once you get past all his arrogance and puffed-up sense of self-worth. I just needed to remind him of that fact."

"Of course you did," I said, acidly, "So how much of that little display was _real_, Vi?"

"All of it," she said, calmly, "I'm Six, the sole survivor of a program that kidnapped fifty kids about your daughter's age and tried to turn them into supersoldiers. The rest died, either through accident, punishment, or by being murdered by the other children. It was...well, to call what happened 'inhumane' would be a colossal understatement."

"The thought of someone kidnapping Lila, and-" I stopped, "Why? _Why_ did they do it?"

"Because Strange isn't always wrong," Thera gave his fiancee a regretful look, "Sometimes people can cause others to escalate just by existing. They got scared."

"That's not an excuse!"

"I didn't say it was!" he snapped back, "You think I want to _excuse_ them? I'll _never-_"

"Sparky? It's okay," Vi said firmly, and he fell silent, "I'm over it now, Laura, but that doesn't mean that I can't dig those feelings if I need to. That display? Five years ago I really _would_ have torn Strange's head off."

"So... you're _not_ afraid of being locked up in Kamar-Taj?"

"It wouldn't be my first choice, but c'mon," she gestured off into the distance, "It's gotta be a step up from a collapsing warehouse. I bet they even have wiffy."

"Wiffy?" I frowned, and then my Vi-to English translator kicked in, "Oh, you mean 'WiFi'."

"That too."

"Okay. That just leaves the question of 'why'?" I said, "Perhaps you'd like to let me in on the secret?"

"Well, we knew that Strange would be back," said Thera, "Even if this hadn't happened, he would've found _some _reason to come visit. LIke he said, anything less would be…_negligence_."

"And we know his sort," Vi continued, "He wants to control things that scare him, and he's scared by things he doesn't understand. Ergo, he wants to control us. We figured that he'd probably present it to his mates as 'inviting' us into his Mystical Defence Force-"

"-registered trademark-"

"-and then whip us off to Kamar-Taj for an extended spa-type holiday, punctuated by the occasional grudge match with some bugger with a billion eyes and mouths instead of arses."

"Which we aren't _against_, conceptually speaking, but our contract requires that we stay in Missouri," said Thera, "And it's hard for us to fulfil it if we've got Mister Doctor Sorcerer Supreme Ph.D breathing down our necks."

"I get it," I said, "You think that they'll ditch the request for you to go to Kamar-Taj in exchange for your help?"

"Yup."

"And you're _okay _with fighting demons?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said, "And besides... this is our _home_, Laura. We want to keep it safe too, and sometimes that means taking a sanctified chainsaw to a fifty foot baby crying tears of flame called something like 'He Who Walks Amongst The Ashes'."

"Exactly," Vi agreed, "And speaking of big babies, how's Clint doing?"

"Hey!" I said, and she gave me a sly grin.

"He's fine," Thera said, "Still, we should get over there. 'Connection's still good, but I'd rather be close."

As one we walked back towards the shelter and its tiny scrap of shade where my husband lay, breathing steadily. Thera went on ahead, staring inquisitively at the spot just above his forearm. When he reached Clint he knelt down beside him and spent a moment checking him over before giving me a thumbs up. I smiled in relief.

"You know you've proved Strange's point, don't you?" I said quietly, "You two play _way _too fast and loose for your own good."

"Don't mistake playing quickly for not thinking things through," Vi said, "If we didn't, we'd be dead by now. And besides, Strange proved _our_ point."

"Oh yeah?"

"You saw how quickly he changed tack when I broke down?" she said, "I think he thought that 'Six' was just a childish nickname, like 'Sparky'-" she gave her fiance an affectionate smile, "-but when he realised what it _actually_ meant, he stopped on the spot. Like I said, he's a good person, but it's just difficult to care about people who are far away."

"I know what you mean," I said, "But...are you _really_ okay now?"

"Yeah," her smile became distinctly crooked, "You know I almost forgot my _real_ name, but I realised that if I did then they would've won. They never broke me, you know, and I take a lot of delight in knowing that everything I do now is just a big 'up yours' to their memories."

"I...suppose," I said. I didn't really understand, but I probably didn't _have_ to, "And you got justice in the end."

"No, I got _revenge_. It's very different."

"You said you threw the guy who named you 'Six' out of a window!"

"Exactly. That's not justice," she hesitated, "Also, when I threw him out of that window there may have... _accidentally _been a woodchipper underneath it. Odd thing to find outside a chocolate factory, but there you go."

"_What?_" I said, and shuddered, "That's…"

"By my standards, that was pretty merciful. I got _inventive_ in my mid twenties," she said distastefully, "I was _consumed_ with rage, Laura. You can't imagine what it's like to have that self-righteous, white hot flame burning in you _all_ the time. It cleanses you of everything, including your humanity. You become a monster."

"Like…"

"Like...yeah," she said, clearly catching on, "It's why I can't judge him, Laura. Out of all of us, I think I'm probably the only one who will ever _truly _know what he was feeling, and I have all the sympathy in the world for him. I really do. But..."

"...but?"

"But I _also_ know how far-reaching the consequences can be. The debt always comes due, I'm afraid."

"Well…" it had to be said, I _really_ didn't like the implications of that, "Maybe I can help him pay it off?"

"Who knows?" she said, with a faint smile, "Maybe you already are."

Without further comment, Vi sat down and snuggled up close to her fiance. Thera gave her a warm look, and leaned his head against hers before turning to me.

"Clint's looking good," he said.

"I know. But what about his injuries?" I said. Vi tittered.

"Goddess, I'm surrounded by comedians," he sighed piously, and went back to staring at his forearm, "I've released control of gas exchange back to his lungs, and the rest of his vitals look good. I just want to double check the function of his left kidney and then I'll get to work on the NRBC stuff. Give me two hours and he'll be right as rain."

"Thanks, Thera."

"Don't thank me," he said briefly, "I should be thanking Clint. This really is the _least _I can do."

"I guess that means I'll be having to do the school run," I laughed, "That seems like a weird thing to say right now."

"If it feels weird, that's a good sign," said Vi, and she sighed, "This 'double-life' stuff is _exhausting_, even if you don't have a secret identity."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure you'd be able to have it any other way," Thera said, "If you just curated all the time you'd be a twitchy adrenaline-deprived mess, but if you spent your life kicking people in the face you'd fall back into depression."

"Yeah, I know, I know," she said, "The shrink was right. How many different ways do you want me to say it?"

"None? I was just saying that you're kinda stuck living in two worlds."

"Pot. Kettle. Black," she nudged him, "Anyway, Laura, if you want any moral support...or for someone to punch Val in the face for you, just let me know. I know how to hit her so she'll wake up in ICU three weeks later convinced she's a nun."

"It's tempting…" I said, "She _is_ quite annoying, but…"

"But what?"

"I dunno…" I said, "I was thinking something just a minute ago, and I'm sure it was important, but...it's gone."

"It'll be back."

There was a crunch of sand from behind, and a moment later a trio of shadows fell over us. Vi tensed ever so slightly, but when I caught her gaze she gave me a look that positively screamed 'just you watch', before nodding congenially at the Masters.

"What'll be back?" Strange's voice came from on high.

"Oh, just a thought I was having," I said evenly.

"You guys had a good chat?" Thera asked, without looking up.

"We've reached a decision," said Wong.

"That's amazing. What _is_ your decision?"

"We...are prepared to allow you to remain here in Missouri," said Minoru, "And where appropriate, we are prepared to provide an element of...assistance."

"'Assistance'?" Vi asked. She was clearly trying very hard to keep a smile off her face, but the tips of her lips crinkled ever so slightly.

"Logistical. Financial, to a modest degree-"

"Oh, that's good, because it turns out we owe the Bartons a _lot_ of money. Combat pay, injury pay...it all adds up," Vi said, "And I'm _really _not looking forward to explaining that to my superior."

"It'd be worse than the time with the elephant," Thera said idly, "Turns out 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' wasn't the career-making defence she thought it'd be."

"I'm sure we can accommodate some of that," Strange sighed, "And we will...work to minimise what happened here. Hopefully, we'll be able to ensure that you're left alone."

"You can do that?" I said with some surprise.

"We've been protecting this world against mystical intrusions for millenia, Laura. _Undetected._ Legends have sprung up around the times we've failed; dragons, elves, the Loch Ness Monster…"

"That one's _real_?"

"She _was_," said Wong, with grim finality.

"...but we won't help you directly confront Keame, understand?" said Strange, "We can't be seen to be interfering directly with world affairs."

"That's fine; you'd only cramp our style," said Vi, "And in return for your generosity, you want us to be your mystical shocktroopers? Your...oh, what was it...Ghostblasters?"

"Close enough."

"I'm sure we can accommodate some of that," she said, with a dry grin, "If nothing else, it'll give Sparky here a chance to really cut loose. He gets...antsy, otherwise."

"As I am _well _aware," said Strange, "So...do we have an agreement?"

"Just one more thing," Vi said, and nodded at Minoru, "I want that cowl."

"Trade you for his hat," Minoru said, with lightning quickness.

"Deal," Vi said, and in a single quick movement yanked her fiance's hat clean off his head and threw it over to Minoru. With a sudden jolt of surprise, I stared eagerly and was...slightly disappointed to see nothing more than a shock of wavy platinum blonde hair, badly tangled and matted with sweat.

"Hey!" Thera cried.

"In fact, you can have _all_ his hats," Vi said, as Minoru tossed her cowl back the other way, "They're horrible."

"That's _it_?" I said, incredulously, "You're a blonde?"

"...yeah," said Thera, still clearly annoyed by Vi's theft, "What were you expecting?"

"I...don't know," I admitted, "Horns?"

"Why would I have horns?"

"I don't know! _You're_ the one these guys have been hunting!"

"It is a bit of a let down," agreed Strange, "I thought it'd be an unnatural colour, at the very least."

There was a gentle murmur from on high. It was too quiet to catch but it sounded like Wong.

"Or maybe I just like wearing hats?" Thera said, exasperatedly, "If I'd known you were all fascinated by my hairstyle choices I'd have stopped wearing them ages ago!"

"Oh, stop complaining," said Vi, "At least now you can run your fingers through your hair when you're feeling frustrated, right? Although maybe you should run a brush through it first."

"As _fascinating _as all this is," said Minoru, "I'm glad that we've been able to reach a mutually beneficial position. However, I have to get back to my Sanctum; I have other matters to attend to. I'm sure Masters Strange and Wong can assist you from here on out."

"What? Oh, sure. Let me just turn off the CTS," Thera said, and prodded at something invisible, "There. You're free to go. Damn thing was giving me a headache, anyway."

Minoru gave him a sharp glance, but then turned briskly on her heel and walked off into the wasteland, waving her arm in a vaguely circular motion. A moment later there was a glow of orange flame and a low, crackling noise, and then she vanished from sight. The instant her portal snapped shut, Strange clapped his hands together and rubbed them furiously.

"Okay. I suppose that we had better get started here," he said abruptly, "Wong? Head back and wake up the cleanup crew. We'll need their help if we're going to get this under control."

"You know that they don't like being called that."

"Sorry; the Mystical Event Reinstatement Corps," he said, and gave me an amused grin, "Nothing quite like an ancient order for ridiculously overblown titles."

"Says the Sorcerer Supreme, Master of the Mystic Arts Dr. Stephen Strange, M.D. PhD."

"Okay, yes...point taken."

"And in the meantime, what will _you _be doing?"

"I'll hammer out the fine details of our agreement with these two. After all, now that we've finished both being right at each other-" he gave me another askance glance, "-we should probably work out where we're both being wrong at each other-"

"That's it! That's what I was thinking about," I exclaimed, "You're both right! They're both right! That's where we've been going wrong!"

"I...yes?"

"Christ! I've got it!" I scrambled to my feet, "Vi, can I borrow you again?"

"For what?" she frowned.

"I feel the need for some moral support," I said, "And I'm sure it will be..._spectacular_."

"Spectacular, eh? You know how much I like 'spectacular'," she said, and then gave Strange a long look, "But it all depends on whether I can trust Strange here not to abscond with my fiance."

"You say that like I can't handle him," Thera said, with a faintly hurt expression, "Or them."

"I'm doing my job, dear," said Vi, "Well, Strange?"

"I've seen the kind of destruction you're capable of," said Strange, "And I fail to see what benefit I could possibly gain from kidnapping someone I'd rather keep on the front lines."

"Good answer," said Vi, and her eyes narrowed, "Just remember that line of thought, yeah? The future of your order is depending on it."

"Duly noted," said Strange, "We'll try our very hardest not to kidnap Thera while you're away."

"Grand," Vi said, and scrambled to her feet, "So, Laura, where're we going?"

"To do the school run," I said, and she gave me a curious look, "It's about time I faced up to some unpleasant truths."


	19. Chapter 19: On Borrowed Time

**Chapter 19: On Borrowed Time**

Following my possibly _slightly_ overblown proclamation, Vi and I took our leave. There was plenty of time before the schools let out, but to be honest I was pretty sure that I stunk like used gym socks and looked like I'd crawled out of a desert. Something had to be done about that, but '_something'_ had to wait while Vi wrung yet another solemn promise from Strange that he wouldn't try anything funny with Thera while she was gone. Truce or not, it was clear that she trusted the Sorcerer Supreme about as far as she could throw him, and as we headed back across the blasted hellscape she kept casting anxious gazes over her shoulder.

After a short while we reached the warehouse and paused to drink in the destruction. Although the basic shell was still standing it was now covered in pits and scars, and thick, dark scorch marks criss-crossed the corrugated skin. Several branches had speared the thin metal, and hung precariously over us as they smoked and steamed. The chain-link fence was simply..._gone_, and the back entrance was now buried beneath a pile of gently flaming sporting equipment and shattered canoes.

"We'll go around the side," she said. As if in agreement, there was a violent shriek of metal from on high and a branch crashed heavily into the wreckage, sending a spray of plastic and fibreglass splinters flying in every direction, "Even if we _could _get through, I'm pretty sure you don't want to experience my handiwork again."

"No, thank you," I said primly.

With the faintest of smiles, Vi turned away and led me carefully around the side of the shattered building. The damage wasn't nearly so bad here, and although the foliage was smoking in places elsewhere it was as lush and green as it had ever been. In fact, if one ignored the occasional piece of shrapnel, it would be entirely possible to believe that there _hadn't_ just been some unimaginably vast explosion in the nearby forest. Right now, that was a reality I was more than happy to subscribe to.

It lasted, of course, until we reached the side door where the burned, bloodied corpse of the soldier still lay. The stench of burned flesh hung heavy in the air around him, and flies were already gathering hopefully above the rich, red wound between his empty eyes. I quickly averted my eyes but was too late, and I could already feel the now-familiar nausea beginning to settle in my stomach.

"I'll take him inside," Vi said gently, clearly catching my expression, "I need to lock up my rifle anyway."

"Yes. Please...do that," I said, and then added, "Do you mind if I wait by the car?"

"You mean with Piers and Ladies' Man?" said Vi, lightly, "Still holding out for that coffee?"

"C'mon, Vi…" for just a moment, the image of the dead man flickered across my vision, blood still oozing from the knife wound in his neck, "Don't joke about that."

"Sorry. That was..." she said, and patted me lightly on the shoulder, "That was too far."

"It's okay, Vi," I said, although from her expression I was pretty sure she thought I was lying, "Really!"

"No, it's not," she sighed, "Can I tell you something?"

"What?"

"When I look at all of this, I feel sick." she said, quite honestly, "I feel sad. I feel angry, and..._scared_."

"You...you _do?_ You're hiding it very well."

"Experience," she said, "But these bastards barged into my home, shot it to pieces, and tried to murder _my _Sparky with some kind of alien handcannon! How could I _not _feel anything about any of that?"

"I know," I said, "But you stopped them-"

"By roasting them to death and executing the survivors," she nodded at the charred body by the door, "Whether or not I had to do it, it...look, Laura, the point I'm trying to make is that it's not a sign of strength to pretend you're okay with what's just happened. If you try to tough it out, you'll break eventually."

"I know!"

"Good," she said, and pinned me with a stare, "So how _are_ you feeling? Be honest. I can tell you're feeling a bit sick."

"Well…" I grimaced, "It's the smell, y'know-"

"That's fine. You'll get used to it," she said, in quiet, even tones, "But how about..._ anger_? They hurt your _husband_, Laura. They tried to kill both of you. They would've orphaned your kids at a stroke and not even known they'd done it."

"I know!" I said, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Don't you want revenge? Don't you want to get back at them for this?" she looked again at the burned soldier, "I don't mean him, of course; I mean the higher ups. People like Keame."

"Of course I do!"

"So what form would that take?" she gave me an appraising look, "What should we do? Press charges? Sue them?"

"How would that work?"

"Good point. It probably wouldn't," Vi tapped her finger on her lips, "I know! We could go after their families. It shouldn't be _that _difficult to work out who was behind this and where their loved ones live. Does that seem fair to you?"

"No!" I said, "They're innocents!"

"Are they? _Really?_" Vi said scornfully, "Oh, they might _plead _ignorance, but let's be honest; most of them know _exactly _what their partners do for a living. They just don't care as long as it keeps them in shiny new cars and pretty farmsteads. Blood's as good as any other currency, right?"

"I-"

"Okay, so I see you're not going to go for that. Why don't I kill Keame, then? I could, you know; it'd be _easy_. Tell me to do it, and he'll be dead before the sun rises."

I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath, "I know what you're trying to do, Vi, and I'm not going to rise to it."

"Oh?" her tone acquired a note of curiosity, "Why not?"

"Because...it won't solve anything, will it?" I said, "You're right. I _am_ angry, and I _do_ want to hurt them like they hurt Clint, but if we do that they'll...well, it's a never ending cycle, isn't it."

Vi's eyebrows went up, "Go on."

"And that's what Strange was worried about, wasn't it? He was worried you were going to retaliate."

"He's not wrong. Revenge has this habit of getting away from you," said Vi, "It just builds and builds, each action justified by their response. You give up your principles, make deals with people who you shouldn't even be giving the time of day to, and then one day you're looking down at a burning city and wondering how the _hell_ it got to this point and how much of it is your fault. Stark and Rogers learned that one the hard way."

"But what are you going to do about Keame?" I said, "If you don't retaliate-"

"You'll see," Vi said, "But that's something for another time. If we really _are_ going to do the school run, I'd better go secure this rifle. And... start hiding these corpses."

There was a waft of unpleasant air as Vi opened the side door, carrying with it the stench of seared meat and burning plastic. With a grunt of exertion she hefted the corpse up by its armpits and dragged it inside, leaving only a faint smear of blood on the floor. A moment later the door shut with an echoing clang, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

I took another long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. Vi was right; I _was_ angry. Everything had happened so fast that I hadn't time to think about how I felt, but now I could feel the raw, red river pulsing just beneath the surface. It didn't have control, not quite, but I couldn't honestly say that I wouldn't have done something stupid if I'd had the chance.

"_I guess you see why Vi made sure you had the safety on, then,"_ said the little voice, _"Didn't want to risk you suddenly becoming a murderer."_

"Those bastards hurt Clint!" I growled, "Why _can't_ I want them dead? Who _wouldn't?"_

"_Oh, you're right,"_ there was an unpleasant little chuckle, _"But you might have to wait in line. You know, behind the families of all the people _Clint's _hurt or killed over the years."_

"That's different!"

"_Because you deserve revenge and they don't?"_

"Because those were bad guys!"

"_Were they? _All_ of them?"_

"Well…"

"_How about that time Clint fought Nat at the airport? Was _she_ a bad guy?"_

"That wasn't...it was just a frank exchange of views!"

"_From which they were both lucky to walk away. At least one person didn't."_

"It's still not the same!"

"_You're right; he didn't get paid for that stunt. It might be easy to think that Clint's only ever shot up moustache-twirling villains, but how often were his opponents just like him? Not necessarily _bad_, but just taking whatever job they could to support their family?"_

"Clint wouldn't take a job like this!"

"_You don't know what jobs Clint's taken, but I'm sure you'd find a way to justify it. I'm sure you didn't miss the part where she called you a hypocrite."_

"'Shiny new cars and pretty farmsteads?'"

"_Is she wrong?"_

"Yes! No! I mean...I don't know," I ran my fingers through my hair, "This is all just...so very different to what I imagined. I thought I'd made my peace with Clint's work, but-"

"_It's harder to ignore when the bodies are staring you in the face? The ones that still have eyeballs, that is."_

"I'm still proud of him!" I said, firmly, "He saved the world! He saved the _universe_! He's not a bad...guy..."

My objection died on my lips as the warehouse door suddenly swung open and a woman emerged, blinking, into the sun. For just a moment I stared dumbly while I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, and then I rather belatedly found my voice.

"_Vi?_"

She was almost unrecognisable. While I hadn't known her all _that_ long, every time we'd met Vi had been basically wearing the same clothes; they were black, easy to move in, and could be charitably described as 'functional'. Without wanting to judge, I'd simply assumed that her tastes had run in that direction; it made sense considering what she was doing for a living, and having now learned about her upbringing I'd have easily been talked into believing that her choices were shaped by her terrible experiences.

Clearly, my assumptions were spectacularly wrong. The Vi who'd emerged from the warehouse was wearing a pretty yellow floral dress that fluttered and snapped gently in the breeze, and her hair had been gathered into two large bunches with a pair of heavy scrunchies. It'd clearly been done with some care, too; the patches of poliosis had been arranged such that one bunch was almost completely snow-white, while the other was pitch black. Part of me thought, perhaps unkindly, that she looked a _bit _like a monochromatic Minnie Mouse, but the effect was striking if nothing else. She no longer had her rifle, as promised, but its place was an expensive-looking leather satchel belted tightly shut with a large golden clasp.

"You okay there, Laura?" she said, with a _slightly_ self-satisfied smile, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I...um…" I waved my hands indistinctly, "What's _this?_"

"You think I wear military stuff all the time? Don't be silly," she said, but then a look of concern crossed her face, "It's alright, isn't it? For the school run?"

"I…" I paused. Rather grudgingly, I had to admit that it _was_ a pretty flattering design, "It's very ...nice. You'll be sure to turn a few heads."

"Well, it's nice to hear I might have options," she said wryly, "Although...on the one hand, I have my loving soulmate who's sacrificed everything for me, and on the other I have a potential cohort of random forty-year-old blokes who love garden centres, second hand bookstores, and complaining about their ex-wives. Can I have a moment to decide, please?"

"Hah," I snorted, "Thanks for taking the effort, though."

"It's no effort," she shrugged, "Besides, whatever unpleasant truth you're going to face up to, I don't think it's going to be helped by me turning up in commando gear and armed to the teeth, right?"

"You'll see."

"Oh, _goody_. Have I ever told you how much I _love_ surprises?"

"I'm sure it's almost as much as I loved being led around by the nose by a pair of bored mystics with too much time on their hands."

"So 'a lot', then?" she grinned, "C'mon, sweetie, we _both _know how much of a kick you got out of playing super spy."

I had to admit she had me, so I quickly changed the subject, "So what's with the bag, then?"

"Oh, paper, pencils, pens...y'know, art stuff," she said, "I take them with me everywhere I go."

"Really?" While I hadn't seen the bag itself, now I thought about it she _had_ spent a lot of time drawing when we'd been scoping them out. Hell, she'd been sketching something just this morning, "That's... dedicated."

"Inspiration can strike at any time, y'know. Some of my best work comes from things I've seen when out and about," she said, "Besides... I promised my psych. Drawing helps me keep track of my mental state."

"Like art therapy?"

"More like an early warning system," she said, "I can lie to her about my feelings. Hell, I can lie to _myself_ \- but my drawings can't. When I was on meds we used to set the dose by how nightmarish they were."

"Oh. _Oh,_" I said, and then added, "...can I see?"

"Um...later," her hand went self-consciously to cover the clasp, and then she wrinkled her nose, "Maybe after you've had a shower. Seriously, Laura; you stink."

"Yeah," I admitted, "I know."

"Not to mention all that dust, sweat, ash, and Ladies' Man's blood," she went on, "You're _still _wearing that bulletproof vest, too. Take it from me, you don't want to turn up to a school wearing a bulletproof vest."

"I...don't want to know _how _you know that," I said, and checked my watch. Although there was now a nasty crack across the face, it was miraculously still keeping time, "You okay with swinging by my house? I won't be long."

"Whatever works for you. I'm just here out of morbid curiosity," she said, before adding quickly, "And moral support, of course. But mostly morbid curiosity."

"Oh,_ thanks_."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

We headed back across the parking lot towards my car, and as we walked I realised that Vi's wardrobe wasn't the _only_ thing that'd changed. Her catlike poise and near-liquid grace were gone, and as she _clomped_ across the tarmac in her combat boots I was momentarily put in mind of a puppet that had had its strings cut. It wasn't just that, though; she seemed smaller, somehow. Before her presence had filled the room, but it was with some surprise that I realised she was actually only slightly taller than me, and not all that heavily built. Had it all been an act? Was _this_ an act? Maybe she'd been casting a spell over everyone and had finally gotten bored. All of those options were in keeping with her gadfly nature, and I was pretty sure that if I started asking questions I'd end up being drawn into another one of her games. This time I decided I just wasn't going to play, and from the subtly amused glint in her eyes I was _pretty _sure I'd made the right decision.

There was a brief pause while Vi dragged Piers and Smith out from under my car, and then we hit the interstate as fast as we could. The roads were mercifully empty, at least for now, and I wasted no time in putting as much space between us and the warehouse as I could. Vi stared in silence out of the window, apparently watching the world go by with great interest, but after a short while she turned back to give me an inquisitive look.

"So," she said, "You gonna tell me what you're gonna do? Inquiring minds want to know."

"Nope!" I replied gleefully, and her eyebrows knitted in annoyance.

"Why not?"

"Because this might be the only opportunity _I_ get to mess with _you_," I said, "After everything you've put me through, do you _seriously _think I'm not gonna take it?"

Vi paused to consider this, and then laughed as she turned back to look out the window, "You're unbelievable, sweetie. Absolutely unbelievable."

The interstate gave way to the main road, which in turn gave way to the country lanes leading back home, and as we drew closer I began to feel faintly apprehensive. At first, I thought that it was just simple anxiety; after all, aside from Nat I hadn't had many people intrude on my safe little world. As we drew closer and the feeling crystallised, though, I realised that it was more than that. It wasn't that I wasn't ready for outsider contact - it was that I wasn't ready for someone like _Vi_. I liked her, or at least I _thought_ I liked her, but at the same time I didn't _trust_ her. Her blunt, often playful nature belied a cold, predatory side, and I was pretty sure the only _real _loyalty she had was to Thera. Would she hesitate if she needed to throw me or my family under the bus? I doubted it; it was pretty clear that she was prepared to step over whatever lines she needed to win, and from that point of view it suddenly seemed very foolish to put myself in such a vulnerable position.

Right on the heels of that thought came a sudden stab of shame. What was I _thinking?_ Vi had saved my life at _least _twice, only today, and in one case had undergone a glowy transformation that would've fulfilled every one of Lila's fantasies. Besides, if Doctor Strange hesitated before throwing down the gauntlet, what could an ex-pancake waitress, even an award-winning one, do to stop her?

"Are you okay?" Vi asked quietly. Obviously, she'd sensed my disquiet, "If you'd rather, I can wait in the car."

"No! No," I said firmly, and forced my misgivings deep down inside, "You'll fry like a dog in this heat. At least come inside and have a glass of water."

"If you're sure," she said, "Um, can I... ask you a favour?"

Her tone was soft, almost conciliatory, and I nodded curiously in response.

"Caleb's phone. I'd like to have it," she said, "And I can't guarantee that I'd be able to return it, either."

"...can I ask why?"

"Because when I get back, I'm going to need to report that Sparky had a collapse," she said, "You said he took photos, right? I want to present those as a mitigating factor."

"Do you _have_ to report it? I won't say anything."

"If I didn't, and it came out later, the consequences would be...devastating," she said, "We have this thing called the Empowered Persons Act. It makes it really easy for the government to section people with...additional abilities. They'd bang Sparky up for sure."

"That sounds pretty tyrannical."

"Yeah, until you've seen the results of an empowered individual running rampant," she said, and looked into the middle distance, "You don't have to say yes, Laura, but it'd be a lifesaver."

"If it'll help, sure. I don't think we need it for anything else," I said, and smiled a little nervously, "It's not like I could stop you from taking it if you wanted, though."

"I'm not a thug, Laura," she said, and her gaze turned flinty, "I don't go around beating people up because they have things I want, 'least of all my friends."

"No! I didn't mean that...I was just, um…joking," I trailed off, "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said a little sadly, and I felt another stab of shame, "I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be," I said, "That's not fair."  
"What _is_ fair, Laura? I…"

She trailed off as we rounded the last corner and the house came into view. Maybe it was just the sunshine, but as we made our way up the oak-lined country drive, I had to admit that it really was a 'pretty little farmstead'. In the light windows shimmered and the new paint somehow seemed to glow, and beyond the golden fields of wheat and deep green forests rippled gently in the wind. Despite everything that had happened it still had a strangely timeless quality, a peaceful, serene oasis in a world that was going completely nuts.

"Home sweet home," I said, and tried to keep the pride from showing too much, "It's not much, but it's…"  
"...perfect," Vi breathed, "I can see why you never wanted to leave."

"Well, I…" I paused. There was a sudden air of tension from the passenger seat, and when I looked over I saw a strained expression on her face, "Are you okay, Vi?"

"What? Oh, yeah," she said, and gave me a clearly insincere smile, "It's just that it kinda reminds me of _my_ home. Just... wondering if I'm ever going to see it again."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking-"

"It's fine," she said, "And let's be honest; it's probably been picked clean during the last five years. Assuming someone hasn't just moved in."

"Didn't happen here," I pointed out, "I mean, sure, there were animal droppings everywhere and half our stuff had rotted away, but-"

"Time's just as good a looter as anyone else," Vi sighed, "She just takes longer."

"Well...I was thinking, Vi," I said, eager to get her off this morose train of thought, "You know how I was wondering if you wanted to go see that art gallery…?"

"Yeah?"  
"I'd like some new things for the walls; you know, freshen 'em up after the Blip?"

"New beginnings? I get it. What, you'd like my advice?"

"I'd like you to draw some of them, if that's okay," I said, "I'd pay, obviously, and...I'd like a drawing of the house, if that's possible."

The tension suddenly ratcheted up a couple of notches, and I heard Vi inhale sharply through her teeth. When I turned to look, I thought I saw a look of panic flicker across her face.

"I-I can't," she said, and her fingers tightened protectively across the clasp of her satchel. "I can't do houses."

"What? Why?" I frowned, "What's the matter?"

"I...don't have my paints! Can't do architecture without my paints!" she said, although as a recovery that must have sounded pathetic even to _her_, "But I can do lots of other things! This landscape? Your family? I used to do portraits and caricatures in the square when times were tight. I'm pretty good at those, and I've got everything I need..."

"Is there something wrong, Vi?" I asked, with some concern, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were scared of something."

"Me? Scared?" she laughed, but it sounded hollow and fake, "C'mon, sweetie. What would I be afraid of?"

"Well, that's what I'm wondering," I said, "You face down mercenaries and 'murder possees' with a smile and a wave, but now you're babbling about drawing a house? What's going on?"

"I…" she looked at me for just a moment, and then her shoulders slumped, "I can't tell you. I wish I could."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't stuff it up for Sparky. Not again," she said, "Not after everything he's sacrificed for me."

"That's the second time you've said that in less than an hour," I said, "Vi-"

"Look, Laura," she cut across my question, "I know you don't trust me-"

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is," she rolled her eyes, "You're not an idiot, sweetie, just a bit scatty. But still, I'm not asking for your innermost secrets. Please don't ask for mine."

"You're...you're right. I'm sorry," I said, "I won't pry. Instead of the house...how about that big oak? The one over..._there_."

I pointed to an enormous oak tree, standing by itself in the middle of a field. A simple rope swing hung from one of the lowest, stoutest branches. It barely saw any use these days, but it was a testament to Clint's handiwork that it still seemed safe even after five years of total neglect. Vi stared at it for a long while, apparently lost in thought, and I watched as the clouds slowly lifted from her expression.

"Yeah," she said eventually, with a small smile, "Yeah. I could do something with that."

"Great!" I said, "And...if there's anything I can do, you _will_ tell me, won't you?"

Vi didn't answer that question, and it was with some relief that I parked the car up in front of the house. We hopped out quickly and headed inside, where she stood awkwardly in a pair of stripy socks while I fished out Caleb's phone and got a glass of water. I gave the wide-eyed bodyguard-cum-artist a brief tutorial on unlocking and accessing the camera roll, and then vanished upstairs while she stood there mumbling about the wonders of technology.

The warm embrace of the shower was heavenly, and I was rewarded with a short, sharp shower of grit and ash as I shook out my head and soaped from head to toe. Internally, however, I had to admit I was...a bit of a mess. The adrenaline had given way to anger, then concern, and now a mixture of numbness and guilt was beginning to settle over me. What had I been _thinking_? What business did _I_ have being on a battlefield? Having escaped being murdered by the skin of my teeth, why the _hell_ did I strap on a bulletproof vest and helmet and wander into the teeth of thirty mercenaries? Maybe if I hadn't slowed Vi down, she could've made it to Clint and Thera and maybe then they could've stopped that enormous explosion. As it was, I'd spent my time basically being a useless dead weight that almost got dusted for a second time, and the only reason my kids still had their mom was thanks to Vi's last-second sacrifice. Why hadn't I just swallowed my pride and come home like she'd said? Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

Still, if I was mad at myself for my stupidity, it was nothing compared to the guilt I felt about putting Clint in danger. Had I really been so blinded by the prospect of paid work? Sure, we could always use the extra money, and like Vi said saving the universe was apparently an act of charity, but still...having seen what I'd seen today, I just couldn't justify putting his life at risk to put food on our table.

"I need to get a job. There has to be something around here I can do," I muttered to myself, "Clint can be a stay-at-home dad for a bit; god knows he deserves it."

The water slowly turned from hot to lukewarm, and I decided that I'd left Vi waiting long enough. Carefully wrapping myself in a towel, I peered around the bedroom door before going to look for a new set of clothes. While I didn't _expect _her to be poking around, she very much seemed like the kind of person who'd appear out of nowhere _right _behind you. Even without the events of today, I had absolutely no desire to experience that while stark naked-

"_Hello, sweetie!"_ Vi's cheerful, almost sing-song voice floated across the room. I shrieked in surprise and dove back towards the comparative safety of the bathroom.

"Damnit, Vi!" I snapped, and looked around wildly for the interloper. There was nobody there, "Wait...Vi? Where are-"  
_"Now, now, don't hang up!"_ she went on, _"We can either do this over the phone or face-to-face, and I think that right now you _definitely_ want me out of arm's reach."_

After a moment, I realised that her voice was coming through the open window on the other side of the room. From the sounds of it, she was standing on the porch, and as quickly as I could I crept across the room and sat down underneath the windowsill.

"_Where am I? Not saying. I could be _aaaanywhere_," _the tone was almost childish, but the threat was pretty implicit, _"But isn't this tech great, though? Clear as a bell!"_

In spite of Vi's apparent ignorance of modern technology, it was clear that she'd managed to work out how to use the phone for its intended purpose - but then...she said she'd needed it for Caleb's torture photos! Just who was she calling?

"_Oh, don't waste your time apologising. Or begging," _Vi said dismissively, _"I _know _you're sorry. You've got lots of reasons to _be_ sorry, but let's be honest; you've thrown a sodding huge wrench into my carefully-laid plans. If you'd just _listened _to me-"_

She fell silent for a moment, and then,

"_Well, I _warned_ you, didn't I? This is what _happens _when you swim with sharks! I know...yeah...I probably would've, yeah...but _listen!_" _Vi snapped suddenly, _"The fact remains that if you hadn't gone and buggered about like that, then he'd be in your arms right now and we'd all be in the clear!"_

Another pause. Who did she mean by 'he'? Vi had agreed to look for Alvin, but…would that mean she was talking to Maisie's dad? Maisie _had _mentioned that he'd been receiving menacing phone calls…

"_What, you think that giving them what they want is going to make them go away?"_ there was a sharp laugh from below, _"Dream on, sweetie. These people aren't the sort to stop, and they clearly know plenty about you already!"_

Silence.

"_Oh c'mon! You can't be _that _naive! You might _think_ you've given them everything they want, but the instant they decide they can milk you for something else they'll be back! You work in security, right? How much longer do you think you'll be able to do that if people find out you've been giving the goods away to organised criminals?"_

Security? That seemed to settle it; thanks to Clint I knew that Bennett had worked for Helix International, and we knew that Keame was looking to purchase it to get access to this #273 thing. But if that was the case, why had he had Bulgakov tortured? He didn't _need_ to force Sophia to give it up unless-

"_That's very noble of you,"_ Vi was saying sardonically, _"But what about your daughter? What if they threaten her instead? They're _always _going to have a hold on you, sweetie. Get used to it."_

"Maisie?" I breathed, "Oh, no."

"_The way I see it, there's only one way out of this for you,"_ she continued, _"You get me what I want, and I'll make sure your problems go away. That should be easy enough for you, right? You probably don't even need to get off your chair!"_

There was another pause, and then Vi sighed dramatically.

"'_Air-gapped'? Does that mean what I think it means? It does? Wonderful; just _wonderful_. I guess that explains why they don't have it yet."_

I heard a faint creak of wood, and then the clink of chains as Vi sat down on the porch swing.

"_How do I _know _they don't have it yet? Well, I'm not currently on _fire_. Look; you know what it is, I know what it is, and suffice it to say the consequences will be...unpleasant if _I'm_ not the one holding it when the dust settles. The clock is _ticking_, sweetie."_

"What the-!" I gasped, and then felt a surge of anger. I'd _thought_ Vi had been acting a little strangely when I'd asked her what #273 was, and this just confirmed it. Not only _did _she know what it was, from the sounds of it she'd known all along! But...if that was the case, why lie? And what did she mean about being 'on fire'?

"_Glad you see it my way," _Vi said, with a faintly mocking edge, _"I know you're in the area, so I'm going to pay your old subcontractor a little visit and then we can all meet for coffee, okay? Be ready for my call, okay?"_

It sounded like the call was wrapping up, and so I very carefully clambered to my feet and made my way over to my dressing table. Vi spoke up again just as I was picking up my hairbrush.

"_Honestly? I'd talk to her," _she said, in a gentler tone, _"Tell her _everything_. She might be angry, but I also think she'd understand. If you need any support- no? Okay. See you tonight...Mister President."_

After a brief moment, Vi laughed.

"_What? Oh, no. I've always wanted to end a phone call like that. _Especially_ when someone's eavesdropping. Really good for the suspense... eh, Laura?"_

* * *

I blinked, and then stared in shocked silence at myself in the mirror. How did she know? How _could_ she know? Seriously; I'd been as quiet as a church mouse! I dressed as quickly as I could, throwing on the first dress I found in the wardrobe, and raced downstairs, skidding wildly across the smooth wooden floor as I lunged for my boots.

"You okay in there?" a slightly concerned voice came from outside. The door swung open, and Vi stood in the doorway; a darkened silhouette against the brilliant Missouri sun. It was difficult to see her expression, but I was _pretty_ sure I saw a twinkle in those big amber eyes of hers.

"Nice dress," she remarked, with a crooked smile, "And here I thought I would have the pick of all those single dads. Need a hand?"

"No!" I snapped, and scrambled unaided to my feet, "_You_! How did you know I was eavesdropping?"

"Because you just told me?" she said, and suddenly burst into laughter, "Goddess, Laura! You should see your expression!"

"I...you…_damnit_, I want to strangle you so badly!" I shouted, and she stepped back in sudden surprise, "You _lied _to me!"

"I did? How?"

"You know what that #273 is! You've known _all along_!"

"Oh, right," an eyebrow went up, "And that matters to you because…?"

"What do you mean? Bulgakov was tortured because of it!"

"For most people, that'd seem like an _excellent _reason to lose interest!" Vi said irritably, "But not you. Not Laura-bloody-Barton, right? Are you part terrier or something?"

"I want to know what it is, Vi!"

"_Why_?" she spread her hands, "What do you think you'll gain from finding out? Do you just want to know because people want it?"

"I…" I had to admit, she _did_ have a point, "I...just need to know. I want to know what could be so valuable that Keame would torture someone half to death for it!"

"People torture each other to death over the most ridiculous of things, Laura," she said, "Believe me. Some of the worst things I've ever seen have come about through the most trivial of circumstances."

"Yeah, but #273 isn't trivial, is it. Not to Keame."

"Maybe not, but have you ever considered you might be better off _not_ knowing? Look. If I'd popped up a year before the Snap and said 'Hey, in a year's time Thanos is going to obliterate you and your kids in a blink of an eye, leaving your husband to walk the earth alone as a rage-fuelled killing machine... and there's nothing you can do to stop it!' would you have thanked me for that? How would you have spent that last year, knowing you were living on borrowed time?"

"I suppose not," I gave her a fearful look, "Is this really that bad, though?"

"If #273 ends up in the wrong hands, you'll be wishing you'd stayed Snapped."

"But you're not going to tell me what it is."

"I can't. Believe me, I wish I could."

"That's what you said about drawing my house!" I said, and then gave her a suspicious look, "Wait. Are those two things related?"

"Tangentially," she said warily, "I'm not saying anything else, though. I can't-"

"-stuff it up for Thera, right?" I said, a bit sardonically, "After 'everything he's sacrificed for you'? I don't get it, Vi; all I've seen is you busting your gut either keeping him safe or keeping him sane! _What_ has he sacrificed for you?"

"His home, his family, his job, his life," she said promptly, counting them off on her fingers, "All for me."

"You mean, when you guys came here? When he took that contract- hold on, Vi," I stopped as realisation dawned, "You don't mean…"

She took a long, deep breath, and exhaled slowly, "Can we go outside, Laura? I've got a couple of things I'd like to show you."

Without another word, Vi turned and left through the open door. As quickly as I could, I laced up my boots and went outside to find her gently rocking back and forth on the porch swing. She was clutching her leather satchel tightly to her chest, staring tensely off into the middle distance. I was right, I _knew _I_ was _right, but...what the hell did _that _mean?

"You may as well sit down," she said, gracefully offering me a seat on my own swing. I joined her, and for a moment we gazed silently across the gently rolling landscape, and listened to the wind gently rustling through the trees.

"So…" I said eventually, not entirely sure how to begin, "I remembered thinking it was... _odd_ that Thera would've left that idyllic seaside town behind to come work out of some dump warehouse in Missouri. When I brought it up, he said it wasn't about the money, it was about the 'perks'."

"Yeah," she said, in a carefully controlled voice.

"_You're_ the perk, aren't you."

"...yeah."

We swung for a few moments more, while my mind span wildly. What in the world was I meant to say to _that?_

"So...what, he made a deal for your life?"

"More or less."

"With _who_? Who can make an offer like that?"  
"Well-" Vi snapped open the clasp of her satchel, revealing a row of carefully organised pencils and several divided sections filled with sheafs of paper. I craned to look as she quickly went to the back section and pulled out the single piece of paper held there, which she handed to me, "-look at this."

I stared. The sketch was simple, but eerily beautiful at the same time. It showed a large, featureless plain, stretching off into a glowing horizon beneath heavy clouds. A short distance away was an ornate wooden structure that put me in mind of a pagoda, or possibly some kind of Japanese torii gate. It had four stout legs, each intricately carved, and a shallowly sloped, tiled roof. Beneath the structure stood a figure, turned to face the distant sun. Although they were wearing a flowing robe, the hair and general silhouette suggested they were a woman, and around their temples they wore a long ribbon that reached to their lower back in two fluttering streams.

"It's very good," I said eventually, "You're really talented, Vi."

"I've been drawing almost every day as long as I can remember, I'd _hope_ by this point I'd be halfway decent," she said, but smiled nonetheless, "By the way, that's not land, it's..."

"...water," I said, slowly, "It's warm water, so shallow you can walk on it."

I stopped, and when I looked up Vi was looking at me, as if urging me to go on.

"How do I know that?" I frowned, "I've never seen this thing before in my life!"

"Neither have I," she said, "And Strange isn't the only one 'round these parts with a photographic memory."

"So where'd it come from, then?"

"It's a bit odd," she said, "A couple weeks ago, Sparky suddenly started talking in his sleep. I thought it'd be fun to draw whatever he was dreaming, so I grabbed a piece of paper and started drawing so I could surprise him when he woke up. Before I knew what'd happened, I'd drawn _this_."

"Just from his description?"

"No, once I started, it just..._flowed_. The odd thing was when I showed it around everyone said what you just did; they recognised it, but didn't know from _where_."

"And the woman? I don't know her."

"She's the anomaly. Nobody else mentioned her, but when Sparky woke up he was sure she'd been there, so...I did my best," she paused, "There's only one woman I know who wears a blindfold, Laura, and Sparky keeps a little statuette of her on his desk."

"That Goddess…" I said, "Thera made a deal for your life with his Goddess?"

"Maybe. Not even _he's_ completely sure of the details."

"But that's a _good _thing, isn't it?"

"Not...necessarily. People know her as a Goddess of healing and protection, but dig deeper and you learn that she's also a bit of a trickster. It's fine to follow her teachings, but if you draw her attention or even pray to her for help then...prepare to take your life in your hands. Sparky may have crossed a line."

"So what happens if Thera- if you two...fail?"

"Who knows? Most likely..._poof_-" she clenched her hands and then spread her fingers apart, "-and I go back to sleep."

"That's…" I looked out across the rolling landscape, and then turned back to her, "_How_ are you so calm about that? Don't say 'experience', either!"

"I don't know," Vi was silent for a long time, and then said, "I guess I always knew I was going to die young."

"That's just fatalism."

"Hardly; I _did_ die young!" she grinned, "But even before the Snap I was grateful for every day I was alive. I should have been dead countless times over, and I guess I was kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. While I waited I got to help people, learn new things, fix my mistakes, make _new_ mistakes-" she looked briefly at me, "-and fix those as well. I fell in _love_, Laura; I _never_ thought that'd happen to me, not in a million years!"

"Nobody does," I smiled at her wondering expression.

"And sure, not _every_ day's gonna be a winner, but that's what tomorrow's for! Being that little better until you have to go, and I've had more tomorrows than I deserve."

"You know that's not true, Vi.""

"Well...be that as it may, I'm not going down to some two bit crook like Keame! I've come too far, and I have my pride, you know!"

"I'm glad to hear that!" I said, and added quickly, "So, what _is_ #273?"

"Nice try, Laura," she laughed, and then her laugh became a relieved sigh.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah. It feels good to get that off my chest," she said, "I have something else for you, too. I was sketching it while I was on the phone so it's a bit preliminary, but..."

She handed me another piece of paper containing another sketch. This time it was of the large oak I'd pointed out earlier, basking in the sunshine amongst lush, verdant grass. It stood tall and proud, each knot and hole picked out with delicate pencil strokes, and it was crowned with a thick canopy of flourishing leaves that somehow seemed to ripple and shift even as I looked at the page.

"It's…very..." I began. I wanted to say 'beautiful', but something stopped me. Despite the warm sunshine beaming down on the tree, a menacing front of storm clouds was massing in the distance. They were dark, dangerous, almost like smoke, and lightning crackled ominously within as they drew inexorably closer. The more I looked, the more I felt a chill building, deep within.

"...dramatic," I finished, a little lamely, "I'm just not sure I'm...looking for dramatic."

"Sorry," she winced, "Like I said, sometimes my mood gets in the way."  
She wasn't wrong. Although she was making an effort to appear outwardly placid, I could _feel _the anxiety radiating off the sketch. There was something else, too; something strange about those clouds...

"No, it's okay," I said quickly, "And it _is_ gorgeous. I'm amazed you were able to draw it so quickly. It's just...I don't want to scare the kids."

"It's okay!" she said, "Look; if the oak's good I'll copy it across to a new sketch when I'm in a...sunnier mood, yeah? I might even be able to pick up some paints and apply some colour. That'll brighten it up, I'm sure."

"Is that okay? I feel like I'm just spitting on your hard work-"

"Like I said, it's a preliminary, and there's no point me giving you something you're not happy with," she said firmly. She took the paper from me and placed it carefully in her satchel, "I want to do this landscape justice, and that might mean transferring it to canvas, if I can find any."

"Donovan in town runs an art shop," I said, "Maybe he has som-"

My watch beeped, followed by a chime from my phone.

"My goodness, is that the time?" I said, and took a long, deep breath, "Okay, Vi; we've got to go."

"Ooh, is it 'unpleasant truths' time?" she said, eagerly, and shut her satchel with a _'click'_, "I've been looking forward to this."

"Yeah, you've made that pretty clear. Just...try to contain yourself, will you?"

"Don't worry, I'll be good!" she said, "Besides, I wouldn't want to scare off any of my potential suitors."

"Well if you play your cards right, there could be a lifetime of garden centres in it for you."

"Then lead on, Laura. Destiny awaits!"

* * *

"Your destiny is boring," Vi said, sometime later. We were sitting in my car outside the school, close enough to see what was going on, but far enough away to avoid attracting attention. Based on Clint's comments I was pretty sure I was still _persona non grata_, and the last thing I needed was for Liv to spot me before I had a chance to make my case.

That being said, what I was seeing made for pretty poor viewing. During my first (and only) post-Blip pickup, the parents had been all smiles and hugs, with only a few refusing to interact with their Lost or non-Lost counterparts. Now, however, almost all the parents had assembled into two large groups, which surveyed one another with suspicion and sometimes outright hostility across a tense no-man's-land.

"_Told you,"_ said my little inner voice, _"Didn't I tell you that, sooner or later, everyone would have to pick a side?"_

"This is ridiculous!" I said, "Everyone should be on the _same_ side!"

"You mean like you and Clint were?" Vi said absently. She was idly sketching something, but I wasn't quite sure what it was, "Unlike you guys, _they_ haven't had the benefit of having their stupid arses kicked."

"That changes today," I said grimly.

"Does it? Excellent! Too bad I popped all my popcorn when I incinerated those soldiers. I could've used it now."

"You're not helping!" I snapped, "And _what_ are you drawing, exactly?"

"Well, it _was_ going to be you punching out that annoying woman-"

"-Liv-"

"-Liv in a climactic playground showdown, but I got bored so now it's a whale shark. See? The resemblance is uncanny."

She inclined her sketch paper to show the large filter feeder, apparently playing in some surf.

"I'm assuming you mean that the resemblance is uncanny to _Liv_, right? _Right?_" I said icily. She shrugged, and smiled that now-trademark small smile of hers, "Aren't you meant to be bigging me up?"

"Whale sharks are pretty big fish," she frowned, "In fact, I think they might be the _biggest _fish. Doesn't that inspire you?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Oh, you know I'll support you to the hilt," Vi said, casually, as she returned to her drawing, "Whatever it is you're going to do, I'll be right there with you. Or behind you. Or still in the car."

"I'll turn off the A/C. You'll bake."

"Always one step ahead, eh?" she said, and inclined her head, "I think I just heard the bell, you know."

"You sure?" I said, and felt the scratchings of anxiety deep within. A moment later, a shrill, insistent tone rang out from the school clock tower.

"Okay; let's get this over with," I sighed, and opened my door as the dread settled in. Suddenly, Vi grabbed me by the arm.  
"Laura," she said, quite seriously, and gave me an intent look, "Just remember; none of those people out there are arseholes, not really. It's just very easy for humans to pick a side. They _want_ to hear someone saying what you're going to say, believe me. They _need_ to hear it - they just haven't yet."

"And what if they don't want to?"

"Then you _make_ them," she said, and got out of the car, "Now c'mon. I need to see Liv so I can get these gills right."

If I had any hope that my punchup with Liv had faded into the parents' memory, it was harshly dashed as soon as we reached the group. A sudden pall of silence fell across the parents, Lost and non-Lost alike, and then a ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the crowds. Here and there amongst the crowds, I caught a glint of sunlight on metal as a phone appeared and was directed towards us.

"Looks like they haven't forgotten," Vi said quietly, "I wonder if anyone's taking bets for Round Two?"

"There isn't going to _be_ a Round Two!" I hissed back.

"Can I take a bet on _that_?"

"Vi-"

"_Laura!"_ a man called out above the crowds, and then Paul forced his way through the 'not-Lost' crowd and moved to block our path, "What are _you _doing here? Who is _this?_"

"Hi!" Vi said, and waved cheerily, "I'm Viola! Viola Doe. I'm a friend of Laura's!"

"I didn't think Laura _had_ any friends."

"Beats me why. She's bloody awesome once you get to know her."

Paul ignored that, "And what's your business here?"

"My business?" Vi indicated her sketchpad, "I'm an artist...and you, sir! Has anyone ever told you that you have the chin of an Emperor?"

"Well, I...uh," Paul faltered as she stepped forward and gently placed her hand on his cheek, turning it left and right to catch the light, "No. They haven't."

"I guess they probably couldn't find it," she said. There were some muted sniggers from both crowds as they edged closer to the impromptu street show, "But…let's see…"

"Laura?" Paul looked at me warily as the woman waltzed around him, giving him calculating stares from every angle, "What is she doing?"

"I tend to find it's better if you just go with it, Paul," I said, trying and failing to hide a smile, "She's good at getting what she wants."

"What _does_ she want?" Paul threw up his hands and Vi stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide.

"Yes! Perfect! Hold it right there!" she said. She flipped over her sketchpad and opened the front of her satchel, revealing her collection of pencils, "Never mind an Emperor, Paul; you would make an _amazing_ crustacean! The thorax...yes! The dramatic pose of your chelae! Those beady little eyes-"

"Now wait a minute!" Paul lowered his arms slightly, "You-"

"I said _hold it right there_, Paul!" she growled warningly, and the man froze, "This is _art!_ You will hold that position until I tell you you can move!"

The crowds gathered in closer as she scribbled away furiously, collectively craning their necks to get a view of her arthropodous interpretation of the thoroughly bewildered man. To be fair, he wasn't the only one who was several minutes behind events, but as she caught my confused gaze she gave me a wink and jerked her head briefly towards the school gates.

"Off you go- no, not you!" she said to Paul, "You stay put! I haven't even finished drawing your maxillipeds yet!"

I gave Vi a grateful smile and turned away. She'd given me an opening, but I still needed to find Liv. This wasn't going to work unless I could get Liv in front of the school gates, and-

"What in the _world_ is going on out here?" a harsh female voice rang out, and in a flash my quarry seemed to simply _materialise_ on the other side of the iron bars, anger etched across her sharp features, "Ah, Laura. I suppose I should've known. What brings _you_ back here?"

The crowd suddenly fell silent, and I found myself frying in their combined stare while they nervously held their breath. The atmosphere was electric.

"I've come to do something I should've done right at the start," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "And you have _no_ idea how difficult this is for me."

"You've come to apologise?"

"Apologise? C'mon, Liv," I laughed, and her lip curled menacingly, "Punching you in the face is the dream of every parent here, and believe me, it was _incredibly_ satisfying. No, I've come to do this-"

I stuck out my hand, and as one the crowd recoiled with a gasp. Liv threw up her hands to protect herself, but then slowly lowered them when she realised no blow was forthcoming.

"I've come to_ thank_ you, Liv," I said, "You were right."

"I...was right?" she stared at my hand in frank astonishment, and there was a collective sigh from the crowd as she slowly shook it, "I...um…"

"Yeah; I want to thank _everyone _who didn't Blip," I released her grip and turned back to the crowd, "You _all_ lost people, and yet you somehow kept this school running even while everything was falling apart around you. I know that you didn't do it for me, or my son, but thanks to everything you've done he had a school to come back to when...we returned. I should have been grateful for that, and...I wasn't." I paused, partially for effect, and then went on, "Hell; I didn't even acknowledge what you guys did or _what _you went through! I was so... _desperate _to pretend that nothing had happened that I ran roughshod over your feelings, and I'm sorry for that. I really am, and I don't think I'm the only one, either."

The crowd fell into a contemplative silence, and here and there I could see parents casting guilty glances around them. Vi gave me an encouraging smile and motioned me to continue, even as she reached out to adjust Paul's outstretched hand.

"But...I was also right," I said, "That's what I've realised, thanks to some...unusual people. We're _both_ right! You kept the home fires burning, and it's only thanks to that that we have a home to come back to, but you need us! I've seen what's happened to the town; it's become sad and empty, because without us you've lost half of everything you are! All those friends, family, your loved ones...you can't just toss us on the scrap heap because we've been on an extended journey, and I think you know that! Believe me, I _know_ how much it hurts to lose people you love...and I know that us coming back doesn't take that pain away, but we _are_ back, and we need you to help us get used to the world that you've built. We don't _want_ to take anything away from you; we want to add to it!"  
"But that Keame guy-" someone called out.

"Forget Keame!" I snapped back, "No matter what happens, you'll always get some asshole looking to capitalise on it! He doesn't speak for me; does he speak for anyone else who got Blipped? Guys?"

There was a pause, and then a rather hesitant '...no...' rumbled through the assembled mass.

"I can't hear you!"

This time the response was thunderous, with cries of 'No!' 'Of course not!' and 'Damnit Paul, stay _still!_' tearing the air asunder. Even Liv looked impressed.

"That's better! If we turn away from each other, we turn right into the arms of those assholes!" I said loudly, and then thought of what Thera had told me, "There's this Blip Centre nearby. You might not have heard of it, but it's for people who Blipped and lost everything; houses, jobs, relationships, the _lot_. You know what it actually _is_? It's a bunch of container crates stacked on top of each other. In _summer_. They're sitting there, day after day, cut off from the world, and they believed that we didn't want them anymore. They turned to Keame, and then...some bad things happened. _That's _what happens when you start cutting yourself off! Do you want to be like them, or do you want to grow up and start acting like we're all on the same team?"

The crowd rumbled contemplatively, but this time it seemed like the rumblings were more positive. Certainly, some of the shy looks and even shyer smiles that were being passed around gave me reason to believe that I was winning them over.

"Hold on a second, Laura-" Paul began.

"Goddess, Paul! Nobody asked you!" Vi snapped, and jabbed him hard with her pencil, "Now suck in that carapace!"

"But-"

"Listen to the Brit, buddy!" someone else said jovially, "I want to see what you look like as a lobster!"

"She should do you next, Steve!" another parent butted in, "She might even make you look good!"

"Hey! You take that back!"

"Only when you give me back my lawnmower! I don't care if you Blipped; I _know_ you've still got it!"

The crowd laughed, and I felt the tension in the atmosphere slowly drain away as the two groups got even closer and even began to mingle around Vi and her hapless victim, ever-curious to see what the outcome of her efforts would be.

"Your friend...isn't all there, is she," Liv said, quietly, as she watched the artist work.

"Oh, she's all there. She's the most 'there' person I've ever met," I said, "It's just that 'there' might be today, yesterday, tomorrow, or possibly sometime next week. Or on Mars. She's been through a lot."

"I can tell," she said, and coughed awkwardly, "Hearing you speak, I realise I...also have to apologise. I know that I can be abrasive, and I _know_ that I wasn't anyone's first choice. I just...I've given this school everything I could for the past five years, and when Val turned up looking for her old job, my insecurities got the better of me. Regardless, the language I used was completely unacceptable."

"So...are you going to apologise to Val?"

"As soon as I can," she promised, "Honestly, I've missed having someone like her to argue with. The other parents don't have a backbone between them, and Paul just...well, you know Paul."

"Unfortunately," I said, and her lips quirked slightly, "Liv, there're kids at that Blip Centre. Vi and her fiance have done what they can, I'm sure, but they're still not getting an education. If there's something we can do-"

Liv fell silent for a moment, "I'm not sure. At the moment we barely have the funding to keep our _own_ school going, never mind an entire Centre we've only just heard of."

"Yeah," I said, "I understand."

"But...maybe Val would have some good ideas," she said, "When it comes to wringing money out of people she's probably the best this school has ever had. Perhaps...the governors could make her some kind of 'honourary chairperson', in recognition of all her years of service, and I'd imagine she'd probably leap at a project like that."

"You think they'll vote it through?"

"They'll do whatever I damn well say," she said, with a nasty little grin, "Like I said, no spines. Speaking of which-"

"Finished!" Vi shouted, and a cheer went up amongst the assembled parents as she held the piece of paper triumphantly aloft. From this distance I couldn't make out the fine detail, but what was drawn on the paper definitely seemed to be vaguely...lobsterish, with some kind of nightmarish human face, "'Definitely captured your better side, Paul!"

"Can you do Steve next?"

"C'mon, man! Do Jared!"

"Hold on, lads," she said, "I'll be right back! I just need to talk to Laura!"

With a bit of shuffling and bumping, the crowd parted down the middle, and I caught just a blur of a yellow dress before Vi caught me in a tight embrace that was more a tackle than a hug.

"That was _brilliant_, Laura!" she exulted, as I staggered from the impact, "Goddess, Thera was right! We _did_ hit the motherlode!"

"I did it, didn't I," I said, "I can't quite believe it!"

"I can. I've _never_ doubted you," she said, sincerely, "The only one who did was _you_."

"Okay, okay!" I said, and one of my ribs gave a warning twinge, "And...now you're crushing me, Vi."

"Oh, sorry!" she released me, "Now, all you need to do is repeat that trick about seven billion times, give or take, and we're home and dry!"

"That's not funny."

"And I'm not joking," she said, although her smile told a different tale, "We've got a long way to go, but I think we're finally, _finally_ on the right path." She pulled me back in for another bone-grinding hug, "Well done, Laura. Seriously."

For a moment I stood there, both enjoying the embrace and the atmosphere of the crowd. The two sides were mingling freely now, and there were handshakes, and hugs, and laughter and even some tears, just like there'd been on that first day back after the Blip. This time, though, it just seemed more...genuine. Oh, I was sure that there were some people out there who were just faking it, who'd just go straight back to their little tribes the instant the good feelings ended, but for now, I felt like we'd finally accomplished something.

It had to be said, that felt _pretty _good.


End file.
